I routinely create flash fiction to accompany my eBay listings. They add character to the auction and humanity to my character. Occasionally they are even relevant to what I’m selling.
This was flash fiction for a Nintendo DS Lite. The seed was a survivor’s diary. The tone wavers, as I decided how hard to sell the product within the prose, but the message I left on my second pass definitively defines the despair.
It’s been ten days since they appeared. I left the city immediately; I knew there was too much risk of exposure. Better to stick to the roads less traveled.
I’ve been using my DS Lite to take notes for me. I want to save my cell battery, though I rarely get any reception. Besides, who would I even call? There’s no one on the other end to pick up.
I’m glad I kept this DS in such good condition. It’s about as durable as they come, and it slips easily in and out of my pocket. I’ve never dropped it, but I figure it could take a beating. I brought along the AC charger, so I try to find a gas station or hotel room I can lock myself into at night.
The one thing they don’t tell you is that survival is boring. I can’t risk going out at night, so after dusk I’m just sitting here with my DS. But stupid me, I didn’t remember to put any games in the box. I’ve just gotPictochat.
I’m reading the Pictochat manual, and I learned there are keyboards for German, French, Spanish, Italian, Japanese, Hungarian, Finnish, Portuguese and Dutch. Not like I know a lick of any of them.
Flashlight is dead. I’ve been using the glow of the DS at night. It reminds me that there used to be something more to life than just survival.
I’ve started reading the health and safety manual for entertainment. Yes, it’s really come to this.
I realized that I’ve memorized the health and safety manual by now. I burned it in disgust.
One of those things was attracted by the fire. I jammed my stylus through its eye before I took off. I’m writing with my spare. But to be honest, I don’t know why I even write anymore.
I opened up Pictochat today, and met someone. They won’t tell me where they are, just that they‘re safe. I need to find them.
There are at least five of them, but they still don’t trust me. They want to know where I am. They want to meet me here first. And now I don’t trust them.
I don’t have the supplies to last the winter. I have to risk meeting them. I’m leaving this DS here until I get back. If you find this, it means I should have listened to my father – don’t trust anyone you meet online.