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"At Least It's Not A Vending Machine" by BlackStar7

Category: Contests / April Flash Fiction

Tags: Fiction, Short Story, Flash Fiction

You can do an inline review of this work in the review tab.

At Least It's Not A Vending Machine


The refrigerator door is wide open. Unrestrained it slowly drifts shut of its own accord, so I hold it like an overextended muscle aching for release. I study the contents it hides endlessly. I need sustenance but as always there are too many choices, too many wrong turns and dead ends.

Nothing edible at the forefront interests me. Anything that does belongs to my roommates, items I urgently want but somehow always forget to buy. I contemplate offering one of them money but then think better of it, remembering five dollar trades for half-eaten bags of carrots. I have plenty of my own food, but I can't decide if I want any of it.

“What're you doing?” a roommate asks behind me.

I stand there for a moment, vigilant, fidgeting with the door handle. “If you stare into the Abyss long enough the Abyss stares back at you,” I reply.

Minutes pass as I sift through the various containers and jars, zip lock bags and Tupperware.  I reach for a jar of mayonnaise in search of an expiration date, sharply withdrawing my hand when I realize it's covered in pervasive goo of unknown origin. Anything in the fridge's shadowy depths is hopelessly lost to the menacing mold we wage constant war with. Plant or animal, these ancient structures are usually covered in vegetative growth, reclaimed by the wilderness from where they once came. We leave them as monuments to the fallen.

Hours are spent. False starts and broken dreams litter every corner of this hideous mechanical box. I feel the familiar frustration, the madness this thing inspires coming over me. Nutrition labels scream out from every recess, demanding my attention. Too many choices, and I refuse to make one. I'm overstimulated by the colors, the words, the hypnotic hum I've grown to both love and hate. I can't tell if it's coming from me or the fridge. I'm so hungry. I swear the wallpaper is moving.

The standoff continues as I gaze into the maw, a massive open mouth never swallowing or spitting out the food it holds in perpetual limbo. It laughs at me.

“Do you want some of my cheese?” a roommate asks one day.

“No I don't want any of your pity cheese!” I say.

Weeks go by. I neurotically swing the door back and forth. I want to bash my head into the freezer door over and over, but then its contents might spill out, and when I regained consciousness I'd have to choose between all of them too. Fudge ice cream or apple streusel? Eggo waffles or toaster pastries? Peas or broccoli?

The refrigerator's lone bulb glows, enfolding me in pale twilight. I don't have to make a decision, commit myself to a choice I can't undo. As long as this door is open, time is suspended, and I'm not getting older and more desperate and uncertain. It might be cold here but at least it's safe. Isn't that all anyone can ask for?

Years pass. I don't want anything from the refrigerator. I sift through the rubble, finding a chipped bowl and rusted spoon. I unearth a box of cheerios from under a pile of papers. I hate cheerios, so plain and unassuming.





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Category Name: My Thoughts

I did not enjoy this story. I am not even sure what problem the protagonist faced. This story was okay. The story would have been better if the author had introduced the problem differently and made it feel more pressing. I really enjoyed this story. The author did a good job pulling me into the story by introducing an immediate and important problem for the protagonist.

This section is for overall comments and general ideas. The score should reflect how much you enjoyed the story.

Category Name: Character Development

The characters were not dynamic, credible, interesting, memorable or unique. I don’t care about or understand the characters because they were poorly developed. The characters were somewhat dynamic, credible, interesting, memorable and unique. I partially understood the thoughts, feelings, and actions of the characters. I somewhat connected with and care about the characters. The characters were very dynamic, credible, interesting, memorable and unique. I thoroughly understood their thoughts, feelings and actions. I felt connected with and cared about the characters.

This is act of bringing a character to life on the page. It is a combination of the author’s description of the character and the character’s dialog, action, and thoughts. Though all characters should be believable, the protagonist and antagonist are usually the most developed characters.

Category Name: Plot

I finished reading the story so the plot must have unfolded, but I am not sure what the plot was. The characters did not achieve or grow by solving the problems they faced in this story. There were definite wrinkles in the way the plot unfolded leading to the final conflict. The plot was loosely tied to the achievement and growth of the characters. The way the protagonist overcame some of the problems flowed unnaturally with the story. I could see the plot unfolding through a series of escalating problems that lead to the final conflict. The plot helped me understand the achievements and growth of the characters. The way the protagonist overcame the problems flowed naturally with the st

In fiction a plot is all the events in a story, particularly rendered towards the achievement of some particular artistic or emotional effect. In other words it's what mostly happened in the story. The plot draws the reader into the character's lives and helps the reader understand the choices that the characters make.

Category Name: Dialog

The dialog seemed like cold words on paper. I had a hard time following it. I didn’t learn very much about the characters through the dialog. Through the dialog I could sometimes see the characters learn and grow while occasionally discovering new facets of their personalities. The dialog was generally consistent with the character. Through the dialog I could see the characters learn and grow while simultaneously discovering new facets of their personalities. The dialog was true to the character and it helped me understand the characters emotions.

Category Name: Setting

The setting created a haze in my mind that detracted from the story. I am lost in time and space because I don’t know when or where this story takes place. The setting was described adequately, but not well enough to bring it to life in my mind. The setting did not add to or detract from the story. I am pretty sure I know when and where the story takes place. The author engaged all of my senses while vividly describing the setting. The setting helped me better understand the setting and plot. I know when and where this story takes place.

The setting is where a story takes place. The choice of setting and its description helps the story come alive in the mind of the reader. Appropriate setting contributes to the plot and mood of the story.

Category Name: Mechanics

The story contained so many mechanical errors that it was hard to follow the plot or understand certain sentences or paragraphs. Occasional mechanical errors were distracting, but these errors did not inhibit me from being able to understand the plot or connect with characters in the story. I rarely if ever noticed mechanical errors. As far as I could tell, the writing was clear and correct.

Mechanics includes sentence structure, verb agreement, grammar, spelling, voice, punctuation and aspects of basic style.

Note: The purpose of ReviewFuse reviews is NOT to provide comprehensive copy editing, but rather to "ignite creativity." Reviewers should not feel obliged to point out every grammar or spelling error (though they certainly can if they wish), but should focus on this area only to the degree that errors make a story hard to follow or understand.

Inline comments are the most helpful and important aspects of your review.

Click on a paragraph or highlight text from the paragraph to provide inline comments. While detailed grammar correction is welcome, the purpose of inline commenting is to spark the author's creativity. This is best done by expressing feelings, questions, and concerns you have about the story while you are reading.

1. At Least It's Not A Vending Machine

2.

3. The refrigerator door is wide open. Unrestrained it slowly drifts shut of its own accord, so I hold it like an overextended muscle aching for release. I study the contents it hides endlessly. I need sustenance but as always there are too many choices, too many wrong turns and dead ends.

4. Nothing edible at the forefront interests me. Anything that does belongs to my roommates, items I urgently want but somehow always forget to buy. I contemplate offering one of them money but then think better of it, remembering five dollar trades for half-eaten bags of carrots. I have plenty of my own food, but I can't decide if I want any of it.

5. “What're you doing?” a roommate asks behind me.

6. I stand there for a moment, vigilant, fidgeting with the door handle. “If you stare into the Abyss long enough the Abyss stares back at you,” I reply.

7. Minutes pass as I sift through the various containers and jars, zip lock bags and Tupperware.  I reach for a jar of mayonnaise in search of an expiration date, sharply withdrawing my hand when I realize it's covered in pervasive goo of unknown origin. Anything in the fridge's shadowy depths is hopelessly lost to the menacing mold we wage constant war with. Plant or animal, these ancient structures are usually covered in vegetative growth, reclaimed by the wilderness from where they once came. We leave them as monuments to the fallen.

8. Hours are spent. False starts and broken dreams litter every corner of this hideous mechanical box. I feel the familiar frustration, the madness this thing inspires coming over me. Nutrition labels scream out from every recess, demanding my attention. Too many choices, and I refuse to make one. I'm overstimulated by the colors, the words, the hypnotic hum I've grown to both love and hate. I can't tell if it's coming from me or the fridge. I'm so hungry. I swear the wallpaper is moving.

9. The standoff continues as I gaze into the maw, a massive open mouth never swallowing or spitting out the food it holds in perpetual limbo. It laughs at me.

10. “Do you want some of my cheese?” a roommate asks one day.

11. “No I don't want any of your pity cheese!” I say.

12. Weeks go by. I neurotically swing the door back and forth. I want to bash my head into the freezer door over and over, but then its contents might spill out, and when I regained consciousness I'd have to choose between all of them too. Fudge ice cream or apple streusel? Eggo waffles or toaster pastries? Peas or broccoli?

13. The refrigerator's lone bulb glows, enfolding me in pale twilight. I don't have to make a decision, commit myself to a choice I can't undo. As long as this door is open, time is suspended, and I'm not getting older and more desperate and uncertain. It might be cold here but at least it's safe. Isn't that all anyone can ask for?

14. Years pass. I don't want anything from the refrigerator. I sift through the rubble, finding a chipped bowl and rusted spoon. I unearth a box of cheerios from under a pile of papers. I hate cheerios, so plain and unassuming.

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