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100prompts2019-04-09 01:12 am
but_can_i_be_trusted) wrote in 100prompts2019-04-09 01:12 am
Entry tags:
[Table #1/Prompt #24: Taxi] Original Fiction: 'Necessary Evil'
Title: 'Necessary Evil'
Fandom: Original Fiction
Prompt: Table #1/Prompt #24: Taxi
Character/Pairing: None
Rating: G
Summary: It's an ugly, claustrophobic melding of chrome and glass and steel. It defies explanation.
Authors Notes: Crossposted totripledrabbles for Challenge #2: Traffic. Also, this completes my prompt table.
The sight of traffic always fills your heart with dread. Slower than molasses flowing uphill, at a pace that would make a snail howl with mocking laughter--if they were ever capable of laughing, at all--the cars make their way through and past and around each other. If they could, they'd defy gravity and weight, and crawl over each other in an attempt to get wherever their drivers are so set upon going. Taxis and buses and police cruisers compete with the glossy, souped-up vehicles of the wealthy, and the rusting, paint-peeling clunkers of those who aren't so lucky as to be able to afford something better.
It's an ugly, claustrophobic melding of chrome and glass and steel. It defies explanation. Everybody is so fired up to get somewhere, that they're not getting anywhere, at all. Blocking everyone else's paths, cursing those who are holding them in place, each and every resident of this multilane city-in-its-own-right not so blissful in their stubborn and selfish unawareness that other people are complaining about them just as vociferously.
And this chaos and madness doesn't yet account for all of the pedestrians, cyclists, et cetera who are trying just as hard to make progress. At least they're small enough to seep through the cracks, a fluid that somehow still doesn't erode the solidity it passes through. It doesn't include the cacophony that fills your ears, pushing aural sensation to its breaking point. It leaves out the stench of tire rubber and exhaust that can leave you drunk and disoriented, as though you've just downed a stiff drink or seven without preparation.
You can't stand the traffic. But it seems to be a necessary evil, in this age. Sometimes, though, it gets to be so much unbearable hassle.
Fandom: Original Fiction
Prompt: Table #1/Prompt #24: Taxi
Character/Pairing: None
Rating: G
Summary: It's an ugly, claustrophobic melding of chrome and glass and steel. It defies explanation.
Authors Notes: Crossposted to
tripledrabbles for Challenge #2: Traffic. Also, this completes my prompt table.The sight of traffic always fills your heart with dread. Slower than molasses flowing uphill, at a pace that would make a snail howl with mocking laughter--if they were ever capable of laughing, at all--the cars make their way through and past and around each other. If they could, they'd defy gravity and weight, and crawl over each other in an attempt to get wherever their drivers are so set upon going. Taxis and buses and police cruisers compete with the glossy, souped-up vehicles of the wealthy, and the rusting, paint-peeling clunkers of those who aren't so lucky as to be able to afford something better.
It's an ugly, claustrophobic melding of chrome and glass and steel. It defies explanation. Everybody is so fired up to get somewhere, that they're not getting anywhere, at all. Blocking everyone else's paths, cursing those who are holding them in place, each and every resident of this multilane city-in-its-own-right not so blissful in their stubborn and selfish unawareness that other people are complaining about them just as vociferously.
And this chaos and madness doesn't yet account for all of the pedestrians, cyclists, et cetera who are trying just as hard to make progress. At least they're small enough to seep through the cracks, a fluid that somehow still doesn't erode the solidity it passes through. It doesn't include the cacophony that fills your ears, pushing aural sensation to its breaking point. It leaves out the stench of tire rubber and exhaust that can leave you drunk and disoriented, as though you've just downed a stiff drink or seven without preparation.
You can't stand the traffic. But it seems to be a necessary evil, in this age. Sometimes, though, it gets to be so much unbearable hassle.