Spin Cycle
Every Wednesday, I post a 1,000 (or less) word story written in a single sitting, guided only by three random prompts. I keep the editing light- just enough to get under 1000 words if needed- because this weekly ritual is all about creative momentum, not perfection. I was moving locations this week so I’m doing a mircofiction story (250 words) because hey, I’m tired.
This week’s prompts:
Genre: Magical Realism
Location: A laundromat at 3 a.m.
Required Word: Clockwise
It wasn’t fair. But then again, dad always said life wasn’t fair. I always assumed his dad said that to excuse his own behavior but maybe the old man was right.
Some people get to live lives of adventure while I sit in the laundry mat at 3am, seeing which machines spin clockwise.
Life hadn’t been fair to dad either, he was the first born son of a factory worker who never did much of anything or made any money. His mom died when he was ten and entered the workforce as soon as granddad could arrange a job for him.
In a world full of people who had money, where just down the road in Los Angeles people were making their dreams come true, my old man started working in a factory at 14.
This was around the time the magic cults started. Dad always called them cults because he didn’t have whatever it took to perform spells. Neither did my mom.
Neither did I.
The first born son of a factory worker…
I went to school with a couple of kids that did have that spark. They were adept at a young age and thrived in a world that was still coming to terms with the power they held.
All three of them were traveling the world, living dream lives while I followed dad and grandad onto the factory floor. Dad hated the magic kids but I think he hated me more for not being one of them