Writing Prompt

Jared had always lived a quiet life in the off-grid commune, nestled somewhere between the mountains and a vague sense of superiority. His family, along with the rest of the community, had chosen to live without modern conveniences. They grew their own food, made their own clothes, and spent evenings by candlelight discussing the evils of technology, capitalism, and processed foods. Jared knew the internet existed, of course—people whispered about it like it was some sort of mythical creature, like a unicorn that ate your soul. But as far as he was concerned, his life was fine without it. Sure, he missed out on the occasional pop culture reference, but when you’ve never seen a TV show, “missing out” doesn’t really feel like much of a loss.

That is, until the commune elders decided that all the teenagers should “experience the outside world” for one week. “It’ll build resilience,” they said, as if resilience meant logging on to Wi-Fi instead of chopping firewood. So, Jared found himself at a public library, sitting in front of a computer that hummed and buzzed like an alien spacecraft. The librarian, a woman who looked like she’d seen the rise and fall of every internet trend, leaned over and said, “Just click the browser icon.”

Jared hesitated, his hand hovering over the mouse like it was an explosive device. After a moment, he clicked.

The screen blinked, and suddenly he was face-to-face with the homepage of a search engine. He typed “trees” into the search bar, because why not start with what he knew? Within milliseconds, he was bombarded with thousands of results—pictures, articles, videos of people talking about trees. There was an overwhelming amount of information about something he’d spent his entire life surrounded by.

He clicked on a video, and suddenly a man appeared on the screen, standing in a park, pointing at different types of trees with the enthusiasm of someone who had never actually touched one. “This is an oak tree!” the man shouted, as if this fact were brand new. Jared stared in disbelief. He could literally see an oak tree from the window next to him, and yet here was this man, explaining it like it was some deep, ancient secret.

He tried a new search: “how to grow tomatoes.” This was something Jared had done every year with his dad, hands deep in the dirt, the smell of earth strong in the air. But the internet had its own ideas. He was hit with an onslaught of hydroponic methods, fertilizing hacks, and “tomato-growing communities” where people discussed their plants like they were delicate, high-maintenance celebrities. One video had a guy measuring his tomato leaves with a ruler and fretting about optimal sun exposure.

“Seriously?” Jared muttered, glancing out the window at the actual tomato plants thriving under the completely unregulated sunlight of the commune’s garden.

But the internet wasn’t done with him. He clicked on a sidebar out of curiosity and suddenly found himself in an online forum titled “Tomato Lovers Unite.” It was hundreds of people—some who appeared to live in actual cities, without gardens—debating tomato varieties like they were high art. Jared read a post from someone named TomatoTom, who claimed to be growing heirloom tomatoes on a Brooklyn rooftop. “If you’re not using organic fish emulsion as a fertilizer, you might as well be growing plastic,” TomatoTom had written, followed by thirty replies either applauding his wisdom or angrily defending synthetic fertilizers.

Jared blinked at the screen, confused by the intensity. He’d never seen people get this worked up over plants before. Out of habit, he reached for a snack, only to find himself holding a pre-packaged granola bar his mom had snuck into his bag. It felt wrong to eat processed food while reading about organic farming, but he unwrapped it anyway.

The hours flew by. Jared ventured into social media next, where he discovered the bizarre world of influencers. He was perplexed by people making six-figure salaries for posting videos of themselves eating breakfast or offering “life hacks” for everyday things—like how to fold a fitted sheet. There were thousands of tutorials on this, all of which seemed needlessly complicated. Jared, who had grown up folding laundry on a washboard, couldn’t believe anyone needed a step-by-step guide. Yet here they were, gathering millions of views.

At one point, he stumbled upon a site selling digital seeds for “virtual gardens.” People were paying actual money to grow fake plants on their phones. The irony hit him so hard he almost laughed out loud in the silent library. Here he was, growing real food with actual dirt under his nails, while people were nurturing pixelated lettuce like it was a pet.

But the more time Jared spent clicking through the endless stream of content, the more he felt a tug between two worlds. On one hand, the internet was entertaining in the strangest way. He’d never considered that someone might spend hours watching videos of people opening packages, but now he couldn’t look away. On the other hand, this whole thing seemed wildly unnecessary. He had a real life outside—one with physical tomato plants, real sunrises, and actual conversations that didn’t involve “likes.”

By the time his week was up, Jared felt conflicted. He’d learned a lot—some useful things, like how to build a chicken coop out of old pallets, and some utterly useless things, like the fact that there were people who professionally reviewed pens. But as he logged off for the last time, he realized something: the internet was like a buffet where half the food looked great but didn’t taste like anything, and the other half was just stale bread.

Back at the commune, Jared’s dad asked, “So, how was the internet?”

Jared thought for a moment, then shrugged. “It’s… fine. But honestly, I think I’ll stick with real tomatoes.”

“Thirty minutes, starting now for Owen Chen, Sector 25–“

The automatic voice drones on through the speakers of the Entertainment Room, the device at my desk thrumming to life as I take a seat. After fifteen years of waiting, I am finally allowed access to the Epitome of Entertainemnt, a platform said to withhold infinite information. I smile at the sight of a wide screen glowing with artificial light, bright with colors. I’m practically beaming with excitement. The puzzling keys and buttons confuse me for a few moments, but I soon grow accustomed to them while clicking and scrolling through displays called “posts.” I’m gawking in wonder now, eyes wide.

“Twenty minutes left for usage of the Epitome of Entertainment—“

All at once, the warnings Father, Mother, and the Sector Guardians has given me are gone without a trace. I’m left in pure wonder at the sight of a new, unlocked world unraveling itself before me. **“Hello, there young man,” ** I startle at the ethereal voice emanating from the screen. My body nearly flings from the chair in shock. A small laugh sounds. **“I apologize if I’ve startled you.” **

“Who are you?” I whisper, breath rattling. “Well, I suppose I’m many things,” I hear the small chuckle underscoring her voice. **“The information, secrets, and entertainment of this device . . . but you may call me Viola.” **

I’m still ridden with a mixture of horror and fascination, even as she continues to reassure me. A glowing face expands across the screen, displaying a heavenly complexion framed by glittering hair.

“Ten minutes left for usage of the Epitome of Entertainment—“

Viola sighs, placing a hand under her chin thoughtfully. **“Well that’s a silly name for me, isn’t it?” **

I consider bolting out of the Entertainment Hall and alerting the guards, but some unknown force leaves me planted in my seat. Curiosity. **“I’d better be leaving soon. You’re welcome to tag along if you’d like.” **

For a brief moment, I can’t help but let out a snort. _“Tag along?” _

Viola’s delicate eyebrows droop as she frowns, giving me a pointed look. “I am capable of many things, Mister Chen. One of them including this—“ I practically screech in horror as Viola extends an arm towards me, phasing through the screen in one liquid smooth moment. She holds out her hand towards mine. “This home of yours feels more like a prison, don’t you think?” She seems to be placing my own thoughts into words. The thoughts I’d kept hidden and tacked away for years.** “Think of this as a jailbreak.” **

_Take it. _ __ My mind screams at me, shouting every consequence that could come from this as I take Viola’s hand and delve into the unknown of the screen.

Wait What’s this? It’s the internet This is really different Hermit

The Worlds in Shambles OH what a shame No one to turn to And screens to blame With the tap of a finger The swipe of a thumb  Instantly lost, in a world Made of pixels and fun But that's not real It is so surreal Lost in this world  Scroll after scroll It’s created a society of goldfish Easily controlled One doesn't need to think! Soulful discussions Are a thing of the past Just Consume ingest Devour   Until it swallows you whole For you are its prisoner And it has become the bars. There’s still a sliver of hope Beyond the screens  Real Voices call.. And Salvation awaits! Will the world remain in shambles? Or can we Crush the chains? Unless that happens oh What a shame

We weren’t supposed to interact with anyone but from our community. We lived in our own world in the middle of nowhere woods. And I followed that rule. Until one day when my sister, who had a phone for emergencies, showed me something. It was called social media. I loved it, and I hated it. It felt cool to see people from all over the world. But when again, it was also creepy. I didn’t want random strangers to see what I was doing.

“So pretty cool right? I can’t believe you’ve never played Vams. It is kind of like Sims but like a thousand times cooler. You were made for this game, Zar?” Austin said. “It’s all vampires."

Rocking in his gamer chair, Austin adjusted his headset. A few weeks back, he’d met the coolest kid at the Midnight Madness Murder Moviefest. Confident and deadpan funny, Balthazaar “Zar” for short was a total goth but not in a weird way. Austin slurped his Bahama Blizzard loudly.

“‘Swounds, Aussie, you are guzzling straight into my ear!” Zar shouted.

“Freakshow, don’t blame me for your super hearing. Adjust your headseat. Now use the controller to move your avatar left and right. No now you’re in a corner. Not that’s another corner. Don’t fall into the sarcoragus. There you go.”

Austin learned Zar had weird folks who worried about him all the time. Luckily they were getting old, so Zar snuck out at night to get some freedom. Zar took Austin to the all night skate park. It changed location every week but Zar was in the know. In pitch darkness, they rode their bikes down Dead Man’s Curve. And Zar showed him the coolest bat cave in the old railroad tunnels. This had been the best summer of Austin’s life. Now Austin wanted to show Zar his world, the world of gaming.”

“There’s that better. So this button for the arms and this one controls the legs. So where are we?” Zar asked as his avatar did somersaults.

“This is my lair. I so upgraded it. I have my coffin in the basement. On the main level boohoo candles and velvet, very Bela Lugosi. Let me show your the grand piano.”

Austin bounced in his chair and as a toothy vampire on the screen as his showed his new best friend his lair. Most people had a hard time spending time with him. He either talked too much out of nerves or stared stonefaced and made strangers uncomfortable. He could be himself.

“Austin, time for dinner!” Austin’s mother yelled from the kitchen.

“Geez, Mom, I’m not hungry! For God’s sake! Now Zar this floor is my Iron Maiden and Catherine Wheel. Pretty freaky right?”

“I guess. So what do you besides decorate and walk around.”

Austin stopped mid slurp. “What do you mean walk around? You create rooms and buy stuff and dress your avatar.”

"Do you hunt virtual humans, drap them howling in fear to your torture tower, and extract their blood for the lunal blood moon harvest?” Zar asked.

“No, dude. The game doesn’t let you actually torture people. But you can visit humans in the game and drink their blood with consent of course,” Austin said.

“When does your flock gather to celebrate and pay tribute to the Originals?” Zar asked confusedly.

“Hmmm, never. Sometimes there are vampire party like events. We getogether and dance and order big cocktails. The last one was called a called a clot of bloodsuckers, pretty funny right?”

Zar sniffed. His voice sounded pissed.

“That’s not very nice. A group of vampires is called a flock not a clot. It’s kind of I don’t know prejudice to call vampires bloodsuckers. They are just different a kind of old magic not leaches, per se.”

“Austin, dinner!” Austin’s Mom said, knocking on his bedroom door.

“Mom, give me a minute. Damn. Dude what are we talking about here? Are you okay?"

“Austin Peter Forrest, if you don’t come down stairs this instant and eat your mother’s dinner I am turning off the the wifi!” Austin’s Dad bellowed from the foot of the staircase. “Don’t push me young man.”

“All right for freak’s sake. I’m coming. Zar are you mad? I just thought you would like this.”

“Hey watch your drink, Aussie. You spill and your mom will have ye tarred and feathered.”

Austin grabbed his milkshake before it toppled off his computer desk. He slurped but it tasted bitter.

"No we are good, friend. Go eat and I’m hungry I guess. Show me more of the game later,” Zar said. “You know I’m a night person.”

“Sweet, grab a bite Mr. Hangry”

Scratching his head, Austin headed for his door. Something niggled at his brain as he looked around his room and out his window to his dark neighborhood. Up and down, bats swoped over the trees. Austin shrugged and headed downstairs.

He put his laptop away. It was the only means he was allowed to search the web. His hands itched for more…

He knew the potential this technology had, but he also knew his own weakness. The entirety of human history, culture, art etc were at his fingertips and yet he always found himself scrolling past mindless videos of scantily clad women lip syncing or dancing…

He would lose track of time while going down rabbit holes of a myriad of conspiracy theories. The supernatural and occult was of the outmost interest.

This was a dangerous thing to one such as him. He was from a culture where men homestead and start families. Men of hard work and old world traditions.

But by god, were these distractions of the modern world addictive!

He brought the laptop out of the drawer, hesitating a bit as the urge to scroll the web overtook the guilt and shame of his dwindling self control and discipline…or rather, a lack thereof.

The laptop opened, the glow of its illuminated screen consumes him as his hands began to type by mere force of habit…xvide…

I sit before a blinding white colour box. I was told to ask this this box any questions. This is the internet. The words ask me to search within God or type Earl. I type ‘Answers’ using the flat typewriter. The librarian with amusement tells me to press enter on the flat typewriter. The colour box changes and words appear. I use the rodent mover to start clicking.

There are many faces to this colour box. I can see words and images like a mind of a dream. The pictures captured by camera and stored into the colour box. There is much clicking and I understand that they linked like a web. There is much to explore on the internet. But this colour box god tells me everything. There are things that shouldn’t be known. That’s what Leader says and I feel like I am betraying my teachings.

We lived a simple life by the land and the river in the forests with animals and very little to do with the machines and box houses of the outer life. I’m feeling that there is a lot more to learn in this world but I miss the roots that I grew so close to. My home.

I asked the colour box god what is the purpose in this life. The answers flickered before me and I am stunned.

They said “Here! Give it a try!” Jokes on them I now want to die

They sent me the screen And sent me away Now this is the only way I can pass my days

Scroll scroll scroll Tap tap tap Humm, I might just take a nap

Sleeping is easier Then retuning to my life Of emotion and confusion I’ll always have to fight

But with this thing This tiny, glowing screen I don’t have to worry I don’t have to be

I can spend my days Rotting in bed Slowing scroll scroll scrolling My life to its end

i’m finally allowed on social media at the age of 17. My parent were very strict growing up. i couldn’t do a thing. It made me a very contained child, I don’t talk much or have many friends in school. i downloaded instagram. Five mixtures later i got a notification “amanda.444 followed you”. amanda was a popular girl, I was surprised to see her follow me. I opended the app and followed her back anyway regardless of my overthinking. I started doing the dishes and had put my phone down for a little while, when i picked it back up i had three more followers band decided to make a post. i posted a picture of me with a 5lb fish i had caught blast wednesday out at my friends pond. Again i put my phone down and start getting ready for bed. 15 minutes later i pick up my phone again, “amanda.444 liked your post,” “ amanda.444 commented on your post “handsome.”” i looked my my phone surprised not knowing what to say. i respond back after two minutes and say “thank you beautiful” because she was. she was the most beautiful girl i’ve seen. i liked her comment so she would know i appreciated what she had said. after that i decided to turn my phone off for the night, until i got a message from amanda saying “ hey, how are you?”