Short Short Story: Destiny

In the suburbs of a particularly rainy town, there was a house where a brother and a sister were working on a secret project.

"Ah, yes, this is the last piece!", said the brother.

"Wow, brother, are you going to try it out now?" asked the sister, enthusiastically.

The brother paused for a moment, contemplating the scenario which must unfold. "Yes, sis, but you can't be here when I turn this on. It might be dangerous."

"Wait a minute, Terrence, why are you making this thing again? You can get hurt!"

Terrence was a little annoyed, but was also touched that she would care so much about him. It's been four years since he was adopted to this family, and they've thus far shown nothing but courtesy and kindness.

"Tiff, this isn't a 'you-can-get-burnt-and-impaled' kind of dangerous, this is more like an 'Oh no! There is a stream of steam hitting me, I got a small blister' kind of dangerous. I don't want to see my little sister get hurt."

"Oh," was Tiffany's response. She stepped back, seeming to have lost all interest. "Have fun, then."

 

Finally, Terrence was alone in front of Destiny, the name given to the machine. He had designed it over the course of four months, with most of the plan revealed to him in brilliant dreams. Though he didn't know the exact purpose or function of the machine, he knew he had stumbled upon something truly great and magnificent. Destiny was created using broken parts and spare machines he had found. His friends donated the rest of the parts.  Despite its looks, the engineering of this Frankenstein machine seemed sound. It was a scientific fact that it wouldn't blow up and destroy the house, at least according to the scientific concepts and laws that Terrence was aware of.

 

 

Terrence was hungry. He walked to the control keyboard of his Destiny, and inserted a slice of bread into the toaster. No, the toaster was not part of the machine; it was just convenient in the interest of alleviating his vast hunger. Terrence, content that his bread was being toasted, went and switched the machine on. There was a slight hum and a slight glow on the metal floor. It stayed this way, for the entire duration of the toasting. Terrence was confused at the sight; something was supposed to happen!

 

"Well, that was anti-climatic."

 

Meanwhile, Tiffany was in the kitchen upstairs toasting and making a two sandwiches, one for her and one for her brother. Her birthday was around the corner and she wanted to make sure that she will get a really awesome present, not that Terrence didn't already have something totally awesome planned.

Tiffany could hear a series of manly grunts from the basement. She giggled at his silliness and continued her task. Going over to the fridge, she noticed that the lights were flickering inside. "Hm, that's weird." Eventually, the entire motor died down in a slow whirl to static motion. She took the required material and closed the door. The Toaster's lamp was flickering as well, leading Tiffany to wonder if this latest development would hinder her entire sandwich-making process. Alas, the machine ejected the golden crisp toasts.

 

Tiffany maneuvered herself towards the tasty treat, but a grand explosion shook the entire house, knocking the toasting machine to the ground. The blast opened up a hole in the ground from which black smoke spewed. Tiffany was scared because something truly terrible had happened, and it was not supposed to happen. Hearing sirens in the background, she rushed upstairs to find her parents, who were half-dressed, rushing out of their rooms. The side of the house began to sink, and the change in weight distribution caused the floor to collapse beneath the two adults. Tiffany watched in horror as they fell two stories towards the black, burning pit. Her father was impaled by a red-hot piece of debris from the explosion. The flesh surrounding his heart was slowly cooked as the heat conducted along the edges. Her mother suffered from a similar fate inside the burning black room. The fire was spreading to the second and third floor.

 

Tiffany had not expected this. She and Terrence were now orphans. Terrence?

"Terrence! Where are you?"

She ran down to the basement, ignoring all of the dangers accompanying such an act. The door to their work-room was blocked with debris. Removing the pieces with her bare hands, she eventually cleared the way to the door, but it was firmly shut closed and would not budge. "Terrence! Can you hear me?" The deaths of her parents finally settled in her mind. "Don't leave me, Terrence!"

 

A pair of hands fell on her shoulder, and tightened. A thick male voice barked a command at her. "Stay calm. We're here to help you." She turned around and saw a police officer. One more officer was behind him.

 

"You've got to help me! My brother! He is on the other side!"

"Don't worry", said the officer, "we'll get him out. Eric, check the stability of the house and open that door."

 

It was fortunate that the basement was made of a concrete mixture, or the fire would have consumed them all.

 

The officer lifted Tiff over his shoulder, and proceeded to vacate the burning building.

 

"Wait, I don't want to leave yet, just go save my brother."

"Listen, child, the building is collapsing. Now, is there anyone else besides your brother?"

"No. Not anymore."

"We're leaving now. Eric, can the door be opened?"

"I've got the door," said Eric as he put his weight against the door. It budged very slowly as he applied his force. The door opened. There were broken machines smashed against the wall, a giant gaping hole to the ceiling, a body impaled on a coat hanger, and a blackened, burnt corpse sitting on an ash-covered chair. They were all dead.

 

The scene was dead. 

 

"Alright, let's get the hell out of here."

 

Tiffany nodded.