89

I awoke to the ringing of their communications panel. The green light of the chronometer showed 4:12 am, far too early for any sensible person to be calling. I dragged myself out of bed and tapped to open the comm-line.
   "Aisha Hanna speaking." I said.
   "Heeey Aisha. It's Emma, Emma Davies?"
   I let out a heavy sigh. "What do you want?"
   "Well, you see..." Emma seemed hesitant. "I might have run into a bit of trouble."
   "Troubling enough to wake me up at four in the morning? I have a day job, you know."
   "I might have, you know, 'borrowed' a little something from the Clan."
   My eyes sprung open. "Are you saying you stole from Sunbeam!? What's wrong with you!"
   "I only copied a couple of files, no biggie. Everything's still on their computers; it's not like I erased anything." Emma's voice had turned into a mumble. "Anyway, I need an extraction."
   "Are you serious?" I was dumbfounded. "You wake me up at night to tell me you've stolen from the biggest astrotech manufacturer in the system, and then you have the gall to ask for a ride?"
   There was a silence. "So can you do it?"
   I scratched an eye with my thumb and sighed heavily. "Triple rate. Where are you?"
   "Thanks! I'm still at the lab. You can get me from the roof of building F. You won't regret this."
   "I'll be the one to decide." I said and closed the channel.
   The lights of the flat flickered on as I started to get dressed.

Elements generated using tables found in the Stars Without Number: Core Edition Rulebook.

88

Sometimes I enjoy staying up late just listening to sombre music. I can't put my finger on why that is though.

87

At the risk of sounding pretentious I am currently going through emotions that are difficult to put to word. I have tried on several occasions to write up something, anything, but as you can probably see I've come up empty. Hopefully this drought will come to an end soon, as I really do enjoy writing the pieces that end up here, no matter the quality.

86

Imagine yourself walking through a mall. It's probably during a weekned because it's crowded with people going inand out of shops. While you are heading for your destination you are stopped by a stranger. They look like any other seller with dark trousers, nice shirt, and an inoffensive haircut.
   In front of them is a pedestal with a red button on it. They offer you the chance to press it once, calmly telling you that doing so will kill someone, somewhere. You'd probably just give them a strange look, maybe berate them a little, and walk away.
   Now, what if they told you pressing the button would kill a criminal. It could be anyone from a young shoplifter to an aged mass-murderer. I'd argue most would still not do it, unless you have vey conservative views on crime and punnishment.
   This time pressing the button would end the life of a murderer, a person who has unlawfuly killed a least one other person. Some might press the button here while proclaiming that "the death of this person will save the life of others," while others may still walk away thinking "killing someone for killing is ridiculus."
   Here's where it gets interesting; What if the button kills a person who will be the cause for more evil than anyone else, past, present, or future? Would you press it? You are all that stands between suffering and happiness for millions if not billions of people. I bet the trigger-finger's starting to itch for even the most hardcore of pacifists. Would you?

Why do you trust the stranger that pressing the button won't kill yourself, or someone you love?
What right do you have to control the fate of someone you don't know or have even heard of?
What right do you have to completely alter the life of the people involved, innocent or not?
What right do you have to press the button?
Why do you press the button?

85

I had meant to write another short story before the end of the year, but it seems I've run out of time.
   This year has been incredible successful for this blog in the sense that I've written more on it than ever before, and that's including the very first year of teenage-angst posts. All in all I've written a total of 25 posts (not counting this one), 17 are tagged "Short story" and four are tagged "Poem".
   I am incredibly proud of what I've been able to accomplish in creative writing this year, and would like to thank any and all who have taken the time to read anything that I've written, and I hope that all of you have a great ending to this year and an even greater beginning of the next.

See you in 2015.

84

Harry was a young teen with his whole life ahead.
He felt unloved.
He felt unwanted.
He felt as if the entire world existed to cause him misery.
He decided to find a solution.
Susie was a young teen and very shy.
She never got the chance to tell him.

83

A few droplets of rain fell softly to the ground. The morning's pouring of rain had left a slight overcast and a scent of wet soil lingering over the graveyard.
   Walking across the narrow pathway was Millie Saunders, wearing a black jacket and a dark pink scarf. In her hand she held a bouquet of lilies with a single red rose placed in the middle. She turned when she reached a row and started walking along it before stopping at a headstone. The bouquet was placed leaning against the grey rock.
   "I thought about you the other day," Millie spoke, partly to herself. "I was looking through some photos from Friday's night-out and remembered that one time we were at the club with your friends. You had left to get a drink at the bar when some guy sat down next to me and started chatting. I can't remember anything of what he said, but I remember that I asked if you were jealous about it when you got back. You weren't, because you were sure that I would never leave you for someone else like that. I smiled and continued drinking. You meant well, but had a tendency to put your foot in your mouth. I still can't shake the feeling that I ruined that evening for you by feeling ill and forcing us to leave early, even though you kept saying how you were bored already."
   She sat down in front of the headstone, just of the path, and took of her gloves. It was cold out, but she didn't really like the feeling of wearing gloves, too confined.
   "Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I miss you." She snivelled, holding back the tears as best she could. "Everyone keeps telling me I couldn't have done anything, but I don't believe them. There must have been something I could've done. If I hadn't left during our fight I could've called an ambulance, and they would've been able to resuscitate you and you wouldn't have died alone in the flat. I'm sorry. I'm so, so very sorry!"
   She curled up as a tear left her cheek and fell to the ground. Fell like a droplet of rain.