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Write a story from the POV of a now-defunct piece of technology.

Posted in Short Story on Jan 10, 2025

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✍️ 80 stories

An Obsolete Man

Submitted to Contest #285

"Hey, Frank, you awake?""Yes," Frank responded, sounding wide-eyed, "and have been for about two hours. Just laying here thinking about how wonderful life is.""Oh, listen to Ms. Sunshine." A purposeful pause. "Oh, before I forget, happy anniversary! Couldn't happen to a grander individual."Frank jumped from bed and put his standardized uniform on. "Has it really been ten years, Graham?""Yes," a smile was injected into Graham's words, "and I've experienced every day of that decade with you and your sunny disposition. I know your routine as we...

13 likes 4 comments 4
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Rewind, Rant, Repeat

Submitted to Contest #285

You could say I’ve got a front-row seat to the drama of modern life. The faint hum of the fridge keeps me company, joined by the occasional buzz of a fruit fly orbiting an overripe banana in the fruit bowl. Perched here on the kitchen counter, nestled between a stained kettle and a pile of takeaway menus, I see and hear it all—every hurried breakfast, every muttered complaint about the weather, every clatter of misplaced keys. It’s a modest existence, but not without its perks. I get to witness the rhythm of this household, th...

12 likes 5 comments 5
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The Chronicles of the Neuralizer: A Flash in Time

Submitted to Contest #285

“The Chronicles of the Neuralizer: A Flash in Time” By Edward J McCoulI remember the first time I was activated. The year was 1997, and Agent J had just joined the Men in Black. I was sleek, shiny, and ready to erase memories with a single flash. My purpose was clear: protect humanity from the knowledge of extraterrestrial life. I was the Neutralizer, a device about the size of a cigar tube, capable of erasing memories from hours to years, depending on the settings.One of my most memorable uses was during the Great Bug Incident of ‘97. Agent...

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The Echo of Songs

Submitted to Contest #285

I used to hum with purpose. My circuits buzzed with the thrill of potential, and my plastic casing gleamed with the promise of a brighter future. Now, I sit forgotten in the corner of a dusty garage, a relic of an era that has long moved on. I am an MP3 player—sleek, compact, and revolutionary in my prime. My body is black and chrome, scratched but resilient. My screen, once vibrant, is now marred with cracks that distort the memory of the songs I once held so dearly. Yet, even in this state, I remember.I remember the first time my owner hel...

12 likes 2 comments 2
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A Mosaic of Forgotten Frames

Submitted to Contest #285

First of all, allow me to introduce myself. I’m not very good with words; I’m more about images. So, I might appear to be a bit verbose or confusing. Force of habit from my line of work. I apologize in advance for that. But I also kindly ask you to read through to the end. It’s important to me. And, I believe, to you as well. We’ve shared so much over the decades! I don’t think it’s fair to leave without a little farewell. And a request, if it’s not too much to ask.First of all; oh wait, did I already say that? I did, didn’t I? My goodness, ...

12 likes 3 comments 3
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Dialed Out

Submitted to Contest #285

You know what's weird? Being a phone that can't make calls anymore. Not that I'm complaining - at least I didn't end up in some landfill like most of my friends from the store window. God, that feels like forever ago. 1962. Kennedy was president. Beatles hadn't even made it big yet. Vietnam was just something in the newspaper nobody really talked about. Funny how memory works. Or whatever you'd call it for a phone. Can't remember what I cost or what day of the month it was, but I remember Harold whistling "Return to Sender" when he walked in...

11 likes 5 comments 5
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The Last Frequency

Submitted to Contest #285

I was born for secrets.Not just to hold them, but to carry them, to keep them alive.Secret whispers between soldiers on moonless nights. Voices cracking with urgency as they coordinated rescues, called for backup, or delivered words no one wanted to hear. Fall back. They’re gone.I was a walkie-talkie. I mattered.My earliest memory is chaos, metallic clangs, the stench of gunpowder, sweat-soaked hands gripping my sides like a lifeline. I was strapped to a soldier’s chest, my antenna trembling as he shouted into me. His words sliced through th...

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Keeper of voices

Submitted to Contest #285

  I sat in quiet gloom in the corner of a dimly lit hallway between an ancient lamp and a dust-covered bookshelf. My once-bright red casing had dulled hue, and I had long since lost my pristine shine. I was an answering machine, a faithful companion in the age of voice messages and missed calls. But now, I felt forgotten. I still remember the beautiful song of the phone singing with the chirp that announced an incoming message and the excitement of the recordings. I was the keeper of voices, silently witnessing the joys and endlessly w...

10 likes 0 comments 0
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Bionic Roots

Submitted to Contest #285

I woke to the sound of a plastic propeller slowly starting to go fast then stop at a steady pace of speed. Power from my brain, it surges through my body. I slowly open my eyes—it makes sense that my mind comes first, then my actions—the sky was grey, the sun bright in my peripheral vision.I move my eyes slightly.Oh, that’s a ceiling, I’m in a building, and the "sun" was a light on an arm—46 watts. But of what building? It was unfamiliar. But also, who am I? I feel as if I know everything except for who I am. All these facts and statistics s...

9 likes 0 comments 0
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D-fect

Submitted to Contest #285

DISCLAIMER: For clarification purposes and a smoother reading experience, the italic paragraphs below are flashbacks! The italic and shifting POV is intentional. With that in mind, enjoy reading!The storm incoming was thick. Which is an odd thing for me to be worried about: but I was. Dense clouds of swirling fog turning gray and tan loomed above, desperately reaching across a canvas of the sky to reach me before nightfall. They had gotten worse over time: I could only provide so much, and droplets the size of cannonballs and lollipops are t...

9 likes 2 comments 2
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VCR Blues

Submitted to Contest #285

My mouth is stuck open. I look like I’m screaming, but I’m not, not really. I’m anguishing inside because no one looks at me anymore. The last time anyone even glanced my way was when baby Gary forced his piggy little fist into my now-gaping mouth and crammed a grape inside my delicate jaw hinge, breaking it. Now it’s stuck open. I can feel dust and other prickly things in my throat. My drum and my rollers are sticky. No one notices or even cares. There was once a time when I was the center of attention. My shiny black body was dusted off, t...

8 likes 2 comments 2
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The TV - Reflected.

Submitted to Contest #285

The TV – Reflected. I sat long ago at the center of the world, in all my glory. I was a force to be reckoned with, heavy, wooden, and beautiful. My body was polished weekly, leaving me shiny and smelling of pine. My front was wiped so clean everyone in the family could see themselves in my window, and my knobs were polished to capture the afternoon sun as she crept in the window, allowing me to sparkle along the walls until someone came and touched them. The touch from one of them is what would bring me to life, and I loved to be touche...

8 likes 1 comment 1
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A Commodore 64’s Last Stand

Submitted to Contest #285

The fluorescent lights of the National Technology Museum’s acquisitions room buzzed like a chorus of judgmental crickets. I’d been sitting there for three hours and seventeen minutes. Being a computer, counting—like hours and minutes—was just something I did. Like breathing, except I didn’t breathe. And at that moment, I was trying very hard not to count the number of times this alleged “tech expert” had checked his ridiculous smartwatch. Twenty-seven! He had checked it twenty-seven times! “Next candidate,” Professor Plug-and-Play called out...

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Thanks for Taking Me Along

Submitted to Contest #285

I wanted to thank you for taking me along on that trip. After sitting alone for so long, I never imagined I’d get out to the lake one more time. I was just going through my photos, and I still cannot get over how “picture perfect”  the entire trip was. Do you know what my favorite day was? The one when you caught that musky with your dad and Tommy.  It had been a day full of sun, fun, and unfortunately, not a lot of fish thus far. No matter though. As the sun rose over the lake that day, I felt your familiar grip once again, steady...

7 likes 11 comments 11
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The Hourglass

Submitted to Contest #285

An hourglass, a silent witness to the unfolding drama of the Stevens family, stood in the heart of a grand, old mansion hidden away in a dimly lit study. Its polished wooden frame gleamed faintly in the low light, the transparent glass chambers not fogged by time, and the fine grains of black sand slipping steadily from the top to the bottom. The hourglass, a symbol of the family's heritage, had seen generations pass by. The black sand shifted down into the narrow neck into the bottom glass only to be turned over to start the hourglass's end...

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