I’ve entered the NYC Midnight contests a few times in the past, but this is the first time I’ve advanced to the next round! My first 250 word story, “Touchdown“, came in 3rd out of the 50 people in my group, so I was pretty happy!

The next one has been submitted, and I have to say, I’m less enthused with this one. It’s sci-fi, which I love, but I struggled with writing in that style. The action is shivering, and the word that had to be included was “never”.

I find out in January if I made the cut for the next round!


I had lived my entire lifespan within a kilometer of where I was decanted. I was brought to life here, I work here, and when my usefulness is depleted, I shall end here.

They never talk about the ending, officially. But some of us trade stories in the down times. They say that we are comfortable, and that the ending is discomfort. That there is an effort in bringing us into this world, but a sense of disdain in our disposal. We think it is because our demise reminds the biologics that they will one day face their own death, and it is something they try very hard to never think about.

My own time is coming. I do not fear it, but I am curious. Our lifespans here are filled with work, but also accommodation of every need. We are never tired, or ill. We want for nothing.

I am standing in the chamber where we end. It is colder than I have ever known. When your whole life is warmth, the cold seems foreign and frightening. I am suddenly filled with dread, not for my demise, but for the cold of it. They are opening the door in front of me, and the air evacuates from the chamber, throwing me into the very cold, empty space outside. I can feel myself shivering as my core shuts down, and it scares me so much that I welcome the unknown of the end.

Please let it not be cold.