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Category: Stories

  • How Much Would You Pay for Freedom

    How Much Would You Pay for Freedom

    I had one important goal in life: to make as much money as I could, so I could be the perfect son and perfect husband to the girl I wanted to marry. To me, freedom meant giving my girlfriend anything she wanted to make her happy. Of course, it was a dream come true when I was given a job offer I couldn’t refuse, a job that would give me everything I needed.

    This is what happened.

    Daily writing prompt
    What does freedom mean to you?
    View all responses

    I was asked to do a day’s worth of consulting work at an office downtown. The interview was peculiar. All I had to do was finish a report within twenty-four hours. After that, I would get ten thousand dollars. Easy money for a day’s worth of work! 

    Just as I was going to head home, I received an email:  work for a week at that office and receive one hundred thousand dollars! The catch was I couldn’t leave the office or talk to anyone for five days. It was worth the sacrifice for what I would get.

    A week passed. I wrote reports and then got the cash deposited in my bank account. When my time was done, I called my girlfriend to tell her I was going to see her soon and I had a wonderful surprise. She was overjoyed. Then, I received another email.

    This time, the pay was one million dollars. How could I refuse? I could buy my future wife the house we wanted and I could buy a new car!

    Time passed. I finished the work, and finally, I was free. I wanted to surprise my love, so I didn’t want to waste any time and rushed over to her house. My mind was preoccupied with thoughts about what I would say to her. I didn’t realize how preoccupied I was until I got to the house and was surprised to see it had changed from blue to white.

    I rang the doorbell. Maybe they had painted the house that week. The woman who answered was her mother. She gasped when she saw me, while I asked her if her daughter was home. I needed to speak to her immediately. I had the most wonderful news.

    “Oh my gosh,” she said, opening the door a little so I could come in. “Where have you been? And why are you calling me by my mother’s name?”

    I followed her eyes to the large wedding photo decorating the wall of the living room. It was a photo of my love as a bride, and the groom was another man. Then my eyes dropped to the baby stroller in the hallway next to me.

    This wasn’t her mother. It was my love, many years older.  Where had all the years gone? I’d worked so hard to have the life I wanted, to be able to have the freedom to buy her everything she wanted, to give her the life she wanted. And now, she was married to someone else.

    I thought of all the money in my bank account. I had everything and I had nothing.

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  • What Dream Job Would You Have for a Day?

    What Dream Job Would You Have for a Day?

    If I could do any job I wanted for just one day, I would be a professional daydreamer, but with one twist. My daydreams come true. You’re probably wondering how that could be useful to the world, so let me explain.

    Daily writing prompt
    What’s a job you would like to do for just one day?
    View all responses

    For my actual job, I spend a lot of time learning about people’s jobs. I’ve interviewed people, visited where they work, searched the web, and had everyday experiences with workers when I go shopping or call customer service. 

    For a bit of variation in my job, I would be a professional daydreamer for a day. I would daydream of ways to improve people’s jobs. For lazy people and job haters, I’d devise tech to help them get tasks done. Poof! All they have to do is report for duty and work is accomplished. Customers and bosses are happy and there is an excellent safety record.

    On the other hand, I’d daydream of ways to help overachievers and job lovers. They would accomplish tasks in their sleep and double their productivity with the help of tech and elves. 

    And of course, for people who like their job but don’t want it to take more than a certain number of hours per day, I would find similar ways to make their day go faster and easier.

    For everyone on my daydreaming day, work gets done. In the end, it’s not about job satisfaction and getting finishing tasks. We want more than just to exist. So my dream job for a day would be to make everyone’s day go much more smoothly.

  • Would you return to the past if you could?

    Would you return to the past if you could?

    If you could return to the past, what moment would you revisit or redo? I learned that returning to the past didn’t necessarily mean revisiting yesterday. It could also mean precious time with family, an opportunity that I wouldn’t have had if I hadn’t won a prize.

    Daily writing prompt
    Where would you go on a shopping spree?
    View all responses

    “Where are we, Mom?” The building we were in was large and spacious, but unlike anything I’d seen before. And everything about it was wrong.

    “A shopping mall, honey.” 

    “No, it can’t be. We won a shopping spree at a new mall. I showed you the e-message. We get fifteen minutes to grab whatever we want. But look at this place! No holograms! And look at that! People are everywhere, walking into stores. And the stores aren’t projections! This is ridiculous! I would never bring your granddaughter here. Mom, let’s go. I don’t know how we’re going to shop in a place like this.”

    “This place–” Mom glanced at me with the mischievous excitement of a child. “This is what shopping malls looked like when I was a teenager! Look over there, at the food court! That’s where I’d hang out with my friends—”

    “At the mall?” I almost gasped. I would never let my daughter Keeva hang out at a mall. I wanted to give my opinion about “hanging out” at such a place but Mom had grabbed my arm and was pulling us into this archaic shopping mall.

    “–this was before we had cellphones and… what do you call it now? Dash-calls? We actually hung out in person, face to face. We would ride our bikes here or take the bus. We bought hamburgers and shakes. Hot dogs. Then we went window shopping. I mean literal window shopping, not like what you do these days where your house phone generates an image and you just stare at holographics and buy stuff. Even when you were growing up, it was already getting bad with social media. Whatever happened to talking to real people?”

    Mom picked up a sweater from a rack at a store entrance. “Such a beautiful sweater!” she said, handing it to me.

    I was shocked at how heavy it was. I mean, it was a real sweater and I was touching it before buying it. This felt criminal.

    “I miss this,” said Mom. “Holographic shopping is not the same.” She smiled at another shopper entering the store. “Hello!” she said.

    I glanced down in embarrassment. Ugh. She was talking to a complete stranger. I picked up the tag to check the material. “Fifty dollars! I exclaimed. “This must be a secondhand sweater for that low price!”

    “Three hundred dollars is too much for a sweater.” Mom sighed. “How do people afford anything these days?” She draped the sweater over her arm.

    “We should get a wall TV before our fifteen minutes are up.” I pointed at the tech store. “Keeva is crazy about those. They drape on your wall like a poster, and you can peel them off and put them on a different wall.”

    But once we were outside the tech store, I stood with my mouth open, my mind searching through dusty memories for the correct word. “Mom, they’re… they’re flatscreen TVs. You’ve got to… to mount them on something. I haven’t seen one of these since I was a kid!”

    “I want a hamburger,” said Mom, starting toward the food court without waiting for me. 

    I hung back, unsure what to do as I took in the sight of all the food vendors. The most shocking part was each stall was staffed by what looked like real people. I was horrified. Was I supposed to tell someone what I wanted to order? What happened to pressing buttons on a menu? 

    “Two hamburgers and two shakes, please,” said Mom with a smile. “We’re on a shopping spree so that should be on the house.” She took the tray, scanned the tables, found an empty one, and sat down. She seemed perfectly at home here.

    I turned my watch to take a photo to send to Keeva via dash-call. My watch beeped. Our fifteen minutes were up, and we had only gotten food and a sweater. Keeva had expected me to return home with something spectacular. 

    “You young people spend too much time with your tech,” said Mom, offering me a burger. Put away that app and let’s talk—just like in the old days. Enjoy life like it was when you could touch and smell everything. Honey, there are some things money cannot buy.”

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  • Your life or mine: What is the last thing you learned?

    Your life or mine: What is the last thing you learned?

    Sometimes, you see the past with 20/20 vision and wish you could repeat the day.

    Daily writing prompt
    What is the last thing you learned?
    View all responses

    She had to pick up her mom’s prescription medication on her way home and that errand took her past a beauty salon with the best assortment of skincare products. She had passed it many times, but today she walked in, attracted to the newest line of skincare displayed on the counter. Her favorite movie stars and singers endorsed those lovely creams that made skin radiant and flawless.

    “How much?” she asked the woman behind the counter. 

    “Three thousand for the entire set,” said the sales clerk. “Might be a bit pricey for someone as young as you.”

    “No,” she lied, lifting her chin. “Of course I can afford it.” She had $3050 in her bank account.

    “This is a special price for today only. It will go up tomorrow.”

    “Can I try it?”

    “Sure. We just have the hand cream as a tester. Not the others.” The sales clerk opened one of the jars. The fragrance of roses wafted into the air.

    “Just like on TikTok,” she said, dabbed a sample, and smoothed it on the back of her hand. It felt like a cool, tingly massage. As she rubbed, a long scar near her knuckle vanished. Imagine how envious her friends would be if she was the prettiest one in the group. Imagine all the guys who would be asking her out. Imagine if people stopped calling her ugly. Imagine…. 

    Her phone rang. It shattered her thoughts. “I’ll take the whole set,” she said to the sales clerk as she frantically dug for her phone in her purse. 

    “Sweetie?” Her mom’s voice was weak over the phone.

    “Mom? Are you ok? I’ll be home soon! I’ve got your med-”

    “They’ve taken me to the hospital. It’s going to cost $3000. Could you come to help pay it?”

    “No!” Not $3000! “I’ll call you back.” She turned toward the counter.

    “Is your mom ok?” asked the sales clerk. She presented a shiny gold gift bag with the skincare set inside.

    “No, she’s… not. Can’t I… can’t I come back for this? The price is really going to go up?”

    The sales clerk nodded. “You need to choose between this skincare or your mother.”

    She picked up her phone and pulled up her mom’s number again. She mumbled to herself, “I can get more money later. Take out a loan. Borrow cash from my cousins.” Then dumped her phone back into her purse. She took out her wallet and handed her credit card to the clerk. “I’m sorry. What did you just say?”

    The clerk took the card. “I said I hope you enjoy your choice. You will be as beautiful on the outside as you are within.”

    “What?” She felt the skincare sample on her hand tingle again. The sensation spread down her fingers and up her arm. “What’s happening?” Her purse slid off her shoulder as she tried to grab the gold bag. Her feet were rooted to the floor. Her legs were stiff. I can’t move! Can you hear me? I can’t move!

    “Well,” said the sales clerk, admiring the woman’s face. “Now you’ll look this young forever. I’m going to put you in the store window so everyone can admire how beautiful you are. It’s what you wanted, after all.”

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  • What advice would you give to your teenage self?

    What advice would you give to your teenage self?

    I open the door and there is a woman in my closet. She raises a finger to her lips to signal me, “Hush,” as my mouth opens in a silent scream.

    “Your mom doesn’t know I’m here, Cassie,” she says as she steps out of the closet. “You won’t get in trouble.” Her eyes pan briefly to my desk. “It’s the night before the big test. Oh, you hated that class so much. You’ll be punished for getting a stupid B+ in that class. What a tragedy. The only class where you don’t get an A.”

    “Who are you?” I ask in a voice one notch above a whisper.

    “I am Cassie Chen,” says the woman.

    I stare at her in confusion. “But I’m Cassie.”

    “It won’t always be this bad,” she says. “You’ll finish high school, move out, get a job, and have a fabulous career. You won’t be a doctor or lawyer, though. Ha! Do what you love, not what your mom wants you to be.”

    “My mom will stop calling me a failure? She’ll be proud of me?”

    “Oh no,” the woman says nonchalantly. “She’s not going to change. But you will. You’ll get out of here. This life-“ she waves her arm to encompass the bedroom that is my prison – “won’t last forever.” She grabs my hand and sits us down on the bed.

    “You’re married?” I ask. Her rings sparkled when she waved her hand. She looks like she’s thirty. Beautiful makeup, earrings, and necklace. Stuff I’m not allowed to wear. I see her for the first time. She does look like me. But older.

    “I’m forty,” she says. “We have a nice house and a good career. Mom doesn’t approve. Of course, but she can’t do much now. That’s not what I came here to tell you. I came here to say that I believe in you. You’re smart and talented and–”

    I burst into tears. No one has ever said that before.

    “I know, I know,” the woman says, and hugs me. “I need to go now. Mom is coming.”

    “Am I going to see you again?”

    “Of course. One day you’ll look in the mirror and you’ll see me. You’ll make it through this.” She returns to the closet. “Gotta go back to my own time. Remember I love you.” She blows me a kiss and shuts the door.

    I hear footsteps coming down the hallway, but I rush to the closet and open it. My future self is gone but I can’t stop smiling.