With Understanding and Fishing Hole finished, I focused on the last story of July for my patrons, a Political Satire. After writing several stories in this genre, I realized the benefit of blending something potentially divisive with another genre, like Science Fiction. That simple alteration to my focus on Political Satire, brought new joy to the genre. Fortunately, when it came time to write Fading Liberties and Consequences, I placed them on the same world as one of my long-running series of flash fiction, Fortunes.
So, when it came time to sketch out my latest Political Satire, I opened my writing journal and dove into the history of Fortunes’ world. While I possessed the political topic to lean into, I needed a plot to carry the message. Once more I turned to NYC Midnight for inspiration. After selecting a random prompt, I needed to figure out how to drop a bicycle shop into a science fiction tale. With the structure in place, I started drafting potential storylines. Once I found the basics of the story, I raced to finish the tale for my patrons.
Sit down and get your popcorn ready to witness a couple enter a bicycle store.
In an era where people can travel across their country with ease, join Alison and Michael as they explore an old-fashioned bicycle shop…
The individual sitting behind the counter glanced up from his work and smiled broadly as a couple entered his establishment. The owner stretched out one arm while the other slipped under the workstation. As the owner’s grin slowly spread across his face, the man inclined his head. “Welcome to my store. How can I assist you?”
The young woman clutched her companion’s wrist, dragged him through the doorway and pointed at the collection of bike pieces. She stormed into the shop and hovered over the parts. “Given how inexpensive travel is, it’s hard to imagine you get many customers.”
“You’re not wrong.” The owner withdrew his hand from under the counter. He leaned over the bits strewn atop the table and grinned. “However, enough people enjoy biking that I’ve managed a pretty good life.”
“Really?!” The woman spun around as her mouth fell. She inched away from the collection of parts while her finger stretched toward the bicycles dangling from the rafters. “How much do you charge for one of these contraptions?”
The proprietor slid off his stool and sauntered out from behind the counter, pulling a catalog from its holder. He rolled the pamphlet and gestured at the hanging bikes. “Wherever you encounter specialization, there’s a greater cost.”
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