Write about someone who still practices a skill that used to be necessary but has long since been replaced by technology.

Posted in Fiction on Oct 26, 2022

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✍️ 133 stories

“The Target” by Stacey Woodward

Submitted to Contest #78

The energy was released. Transferred. Until it stopped and left as sound and heat. The arrow left the bow and hit the target in the middle. Bullseye. Three years ago, she’d have people behind her and next to her, cheering her on so she would get another good shot. But not anymore. No one was there. No one was her cheerleader. Unless it was on a FaceTime call, a Skype, a WhatsApp or Facebook, Instagram or Snapchat or whatever else was around, no one would applaud her. With everyone superglued to their screens, their iPads, Samsung Galaxy’s, l...

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“Old school.” by Michael Young

Submitted to Contest #78

“You should go and see Mrs Preost, her who lives in the woods at the edge of the village”, said George. “Hang on.”, said Sam. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but she ain’t no doctor as I recall.” “Well, no, but she has remedies what are more old school, if you know what I mean.” Sam crinkles his brow, the furrows and lines on his face making him look more walnut than human. “Well, I can’t say as I do know what you mean by old school.” George sighs and shifts his feet a little. “You know, old school.” the...

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“French Toast” by Gouda Cheese

Submitted to Contest #78

“Why do you cook?”That question. Those four simple words, echoed so many times. By friends, by family, by strangers, and by myself. Although there’s no one else left to ask it now.The answer is complicated, and yet simple in its complexity.Why do I cook?Because I want to. Because it brings me joy. Because it brings warmth to the artificial world that surrounds us. Because of the sights, the smells, the tastes, the feeling of creating something worthwhile.Every day I wake up and look out at the barren landscape outside, devastated by the nucl...

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“WATCHMAN” by SHYAMALA BHUVANACHANDRAN

Submitted to Contest #78

Giriraj was insisting on his grandson Motilal to learn about his ancestral and traditional art of pottery. But Motilal was least interested in it. “Who would meddle with mud and clay? What a nasty and ugly activity!” He disliked it. He preferred painting to pottery. Giriraj tried to convince him that the potters’ wheel was the oldest and still the best of all inventions made so far known to mankind. “You should feel proud to be belonging to a potters’ family. Learn this activity as your hobby. It need not be your source of livelihood.” “No,...

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“Embers” by Andrew Liss-Noda

Submitted to Contest #78

Deep in the dark, beyond fathomless fractal immensities, I seek the coldlight, the depthlight, the light of the fallen. The unreality, the paradoxicality, of the empty spaces far outside of the bounds of this galaxy, fold into my chest; my lungs wheeze and ache inside of my ears. The dark distance flows out across my ribs, out through my breastbone, and, as I open my eyes, like a mote of brightest darkness, hovers between my palms just outside of my body. I breathe a sigh of relief as the spectral hands of winter fle...

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“Breathing Apparatus” by Paige Winters

Submitted to Contest #78

I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, watching the geezer reflected back at me. His hair is white and wispy around his ears but the rest is bald and bumpy. Wrinkles have long since made a home in his skin, the crevices deep around his once lively brown eyes. He stands hunched over, knobby knuckles gripping the sink. The geezer blinks once, twice, breathing shallowly. The tube pumps oxygen into his lungs at a steady pace. In and out. In and out. In and out. I step back from the mirror and sit on the toilet lid, the porcelain’s cold seepin...

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“The Passerby” by A. M.

Submitted to Contest #78

Every passerby has a story, I remembered. In my twenties, I worked as a lift operator—it wasn’t the fanciest job in the world, but still, it was enough for me to get by on a day-to-day basis. And no, I’m not talking about those ski resort lift operators that wear giant coats and fuzzy mittens, I’m talking about elevators operators that worked during the times before the ‘up’ and ‘down’ button was invented, the lift operators that wore pure white leather gloves and neatly buttoned-up suit jackets and neckties. Now, I s...

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“A Dino That Typed” by Dalia Navarez

Submitted to Contest #78

January 28, 2021 The final analysis and data reports had been turned into Professor Curton, and the printer stirred quietly as the warm packets of his recent studies popped out one by one. His presentation tomorrow would be concerning the middle and high school proportion of the town, hoping to end the growing anxiety for some adolescents of the new generation. The new technology gave him blisters to maneuver as his freakish nails kept getting stuck in between each of the keys. After finishing his PowerPoint, and unle...

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“The Missing Ice” by Ema Fabrychiang

Submitted to Contest #78

Derek brought the family’s horse, Ranger, out of the small barn, got out the thickest horse blanket, and began to bridle him. “C’mon, lemme finish. Once I put the reins on ya, we’ll be ready to go.” Peter sat in the cart, taking inventory of the ice harvesting tools. As Derek was just finishing with Ranger, Peter jumped out of the cart. “It’s all there. Let’s go!” “Great! Go around back, and make a starting push. I’ll get Ranger goin’,” Derek told his brother Peter. The cart lurched forward, and they began to walk down Winsom Road. The...

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“The Blacksmith” by A P

Submitted to Contest #78

Overdevelopment surrounds this town like a giant wave, waiting to engulf the countryside. One freeway exit and life becomes quickly different. Time picks off, one by one, the things that tie us to yesterday. The through traffic was diverted to the freeway and the town suffered. Local giant supermarkets have all but closed the local general store. I wouldn't expect that this town would have many visitors. I'm sure the locals prefer it that way. I had to keep in mind I was there for a purpose. As I approached the the property my eyes lit up. ...

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“My Mother's Cards” by Marsha McCroskey

Submitted to Contest #78

My mother never gave up writing letters and sending cards. No matter how much technology was advancing, she would say "people LOVE getting a hand-written letter or card"! She would never even type her letters, although an expert typist, but write them in that beautiful practiced, flowing script of hers. I particularly remember her "r"s. They looked just like those in cursive writing books: the little upwards rising tip at the top of the "r", flowing downwards, then up into a smaller point, then down and around to meet the next letter. This m...

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“The knocker-upper” by Agnes M

Submitted to Contest #78

Dad sat by the window deep in thought. He was holding his usual cup of morning coffee in one hand while the other balanced his chin. Spirals of steam rose up from the coffee into the air, getting lost in the beam of the sun's rays. Outside, the village was waking up. The thrushes were singing, welcoming the new day, while all around the neighbouring houses, people began their daily lives. It was another Friday and the year was 1920. A twelve-year-old me was already dressed up in uniform, ready to go to school. I had just come...

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“Forgotten Treasures” by Nuha E.

Submitted to Contest #78

“Lila, wait up!” I rolled my eyes, but I slowed my run into a slow walk. At this rate, I was going to be late and Mr. Rohan didn’t like it when I was late. He would always grumble, moaning about how nowadays kids have too much freedom and don’t respect their elders, before making me stay behind as punishment to finish menial tasks that he definitely did not pay me for. After last time where he got me to empty the trash, 5 bags full, to the Dumpyard, 4 miles south of the shop without Tom’s help, I wasn’t about to land myself in that tra...

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“Wild Garlic” by Cynthia Keeler

Submitted to Contest #78

“Where did you get all this?” Samuel is surveying his kitchen. The granite countertops are hidden under a jungle of green leaves. The sweet herbal aroma fills the kitchen more than the verdant wild garlic that overflows out of the sink and over every surface. He is talking loudly, almost yelling to be heard over the roaring food processor. His young son is standing on a stool at the sink washing the leaves while his wife stands almost motionless pouring oil in a thin stream into the spinning appliance. “The forest.” She says without t...

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“Wooden Whistle” by LuAnn Williamson

Submitted to Contest #78

Wooden Whistle By LuAnn Williamson Cold! It had been so cold a few minutes ago, when icy sleet had soaked through their lightweight coats and shoes. But at last she was warm. The survivors had found a small clearing in the forest where the trees had sheltered them from the weather. Better yet, it had sheltered a scattering of fallen tree limbs. As she drifted off to sleep, Kate realized the...

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Write about someone who still practices a skill that used to be necessary but has long since been replaced by technology.

Submissions are closed

✍️ 133 stories

“The Target” by Stacey Woodward

“Old school.” by Michael Young

“French Toast” by Gouda Cheese

“WATCHMAN” by SHYAMALA BHUVANACHANDRAN

“Embers” by Andrew Liss-Noda

“Breathing Apparatus” by Paige Winters

“The Passerby” by A. M.

“A Dino That Typed” by Dalia Navarez

“The Missing Ice” by Ema Fabrychiang

“The Blacksmith” by A P

“My Mother's Cards” by Marsha McCroskey

“The knocker-upper” by Agnes M

“Forgotten Treasures” by Nuha E.

“Wild Garlic” by Cynthia Keeler

“Wooden Whistle” by LuAnn Williamson

🌟 Similar prompts

Start your story with one character trying to convince another to take up their favorite hobby.

Write about someone who keeps an unusual animal as a pet.

Set your story at a convention for a hobby most people have never heard of.

Write about someone who keeps picking up different hobbies but never manages to stick with them.

Contest #78

Enter our weekly contest!

$50

Prize money

735

Contest entries

0

Stories

Win $250 in our short story competition 🏆

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