Democracy

A 50-word dystopian fiction (is it really fiction?)

She was meant to sail a thousand seas, to carry us to lands of freedom and equality.

All of us. Not just the few, the wealthy. Not just rich white men.

She lies, broken, rotting, on desert sands. A cry in the dark, a whisper, a tear for freedom lost.

---

After a very long break, I’m back. Sort of. Thank you to all who have hung in, waiting for me. It’s been a tough year for me with lots of health challenges that are ongoing. I haven’t had the energy or drive to write, or even to check in on friends’ Substack publications.

I pushed myself the other day to dip into Justin Deming’s Along the Hudson, in particular, looking at his latest Fifties by the Fire prompt. He asked for a fifty-word story about a ship that didn’t sail. The expanded version of the prompt was as follows:

Write a fifty-word story (fiction, CNF, or poem) about one of the following:

• Being stranded.

• The ship that didn’t sail.

This sparked my imagination and the story came out whole. When I checked the word count, it was exact without editing. I did change a few words to make the story more powerful.

I received a comment on the story in Fifties by the Fire that suggested to me the reader thought it was about the U.S. That surprised me at first, but then I realized that it could easily be taken that way. Really, it’s about the rise of totalitarianism around the world. While the media largely focuses on American politics, this is a global issue. This story applies to all of us, wherever we live.

---

I’m not ready to commit to a regular publishing schedule, but I hope this story marks a return to at least periodic writing for me. Thanks again to everyone who has hung around waiting for me. I truly appreciate every one of you.

Happy reading.

Dascha