Well, I have been reading these twentyfourhourstories all day long. It inspired me to write my first bit of fiction EVER. Of course then I went to grab the link and follow the rules and noticed the deadline has already past. I am still going to follow those rules and post my story anyway. Please let me know what you think.
This was going to be for the #twnetyfourhourstory contest which can be found here Writers win 5 steem! Twenty Four Hour Short Story Contest for June 20 A child grows up amidst “lost technology” with their grandparent’s stories about “Earth that was.”
Now, onto out story.
Monumental
It was just another normal Saturday morning. Mom was scraping together what she could to make breakfast for her twelve-year-old son, Frank, and her father, Jack. After quickly inhaling the scraps from his plate, Jack grabbed his backpack and rushed out the door without a word. This was a regular occurrence for more than half of the days in the week. Frank's curiosity got the best of him on this day, though. He went to his bedroom and climbed out the window without his mother knowing, and secretly followed his grandfather. He had always wondered what the sixty-something year old was always in a hurry to get to. After all, this was a post-nuclear Earth. It was not like there were lots of activities to do out in the dark and barren neighborhoods of their small settlement of about 300 survivors.
It had now been more than four decades since the devastation sent the planet into a tailspin that only about eight percent of the world's population survived. The year was now 2064 and small pockets of the planet were slowly recovering to where it was actually safe to be outside again. To be safe, though, people still needed to wear their radiation suits if they were going to be outdoors for extended periods of time. Grandpa carried his in that backpack of his, while Frank promised his mother he would never go outside without it on. The noisy suit of course made it hard for him to be sneaky while following his grandfather. Luckily, Grandpa Jack didn't discover his unwanted tagalong until he was arriving at his destination, some two miles from the house.
"Boy! What are you doing following me? It's dangerous for kids to be outside for too long."
"But grandpa, I just wanted to see what you do on all these days you leave the house and spend hours out here."
"Boy, I ought to turn around and take you home right now. I have work to do, though. So if you want to get yourself home go ahead. I suppose you could stay and help me if you really wanted to."
"What kind of work are you . . ." Frank paused mid-sentence as the two of them walked along toward their destination. Rounding the corner of a small cliff, something came into sight in the small valley up ahead. Frank's eyes grew to the size of those breakfast plates they had just licked clean.
"Grandpa Jack, WHAT IS THAT?"
"That's my monument."
"What's a monument, Grandpa Jack?"
"Well, it's something you build to remember something important."
"What is your moment supposed to be remembering?"
"It's so everyone will always remember all those people that died, the way this planet was before . . . before that stupid war in 2022."
They had now arrived at the base of this truly monumental monument. It stood some fifty feet tall and had to be at least twenty feet by twenty feet at its base.
Frank tried to look up at it and about fell over; he was so shocked at the site of this structure that seemed immense to a twelve-year-old boy who had never seen the vast skyscrapers that were so plentiful on the Earth that once was.
He touched the side of the structure in a few places and asked, "Grandpa Jack, what are these things you built your mMonument with?"
"That's what they used to call technology, son."
Jack's building materials consisted of all sorts of electronics: laptop computers, cell phones, some flat screen televsions -- all of the things that no longer had a use in the desolate new world.
"What did all of this stuff do, Grandpa Jack?"
"Everything! People became so dependent on their gadgets. Watching movies on these wherever they went." He held up a cell phone. "Sitting with their eyes glued to these things for 12 hours a day." He toppled a flat screen with a nudge of his foot. He then held up a laptop and waved it around a bit as he added, "And on these things people watched a whole different kind of movie!"
"Hell, it's all of these things that got us into this mess. Someone gets some hurt feelings on one of these things" -- he tossed a cell phone as far as he could throw it -- "and the next thing you know people are pushing buttons and blowing the world up." He continued to mumble, "Stupid, it was just so stupid!" as he fell to his knees and put his head in his hands.
A minute or two of silence went by and young Frank asked, "Can I help you build your monument, Grandpa Jack? I don't want you to forget about all of them people that are gone now."
"Yes, son, you can help me build OUR monument."
The two began piecing together level after level for weeks. As time went on, Frank got better and better at it. Grandpa Jack would let him start scaling the sides after a while. The whole time, Grandpa Jack shared stories of what life was like before the great Twitter War. Finally it was time to put the final piece into place. The two of them climbed up, and Grandpa Jack hoisted Frank the last little bit so the final cell phone could be set in place just right.
That night when they got back to the tiny settlement, Frank ran around telling everyone about Grandpa Jack's monument. Grandpa Jack didn't like all of the fuss the boy was making. The next morning, Grandpa Jack was woken by Frank saying, "Grandpa Jack, Grandpa Jack, you have to come see!"
"See what, boy?"
"Your, I mean our, monument! People are remembering! Come on!" Frank slipped Grandpa Jack's shoes on as Jack pulled a shirt over his head.
The two rushed out to the monument and saw what had to be every resident of their tiny settlement setting up all kinds of food they had pulled together from their meek supplies. They all sat and ate while the older people of the group like Grandpa Jack took turns sharing stories of how the Earth used to be. One of Grandpa Jack's favorite stories was about always being called a "Millennial" and being told he'd never amount to anything. He often ended that story by turning and looking up at his monument and saying, "Well, look what I did!" This was often followed by a tug on his shirt from Frank that led Grandpa Jack to look back at the crowd and say, "I mean, look what WE did!"