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Mind AtticI am a Villain in My Own Story
I’ve caused the death and suffering of 3470 animals and inflicted tremendous damage to the planet—this is my confession.Nobody is a villain in their own story. We’re all the heroes of our own stories. George R. R. Martin.Well, I messed up because I’m a villain in mine.I Was a Good KidMy mother used to feed half of the stray cats in the neighbourhood. She couldn’t stand the smell of fish but prepared it every day for the homeless sleeping furballs seizing our balcony. Our family adopted five c...
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The Spark of RebellionEvery story has a beginning, and the saga of Mind Attic was born from a spark of rebellion – a dream to break free from the shackles of conventional education. This dream, held in the mind's attic of a young learner, gradually took shape, eventually materializing as an educational revolution.Where Traditional Education Falls ShortMany an afternoon was spent in classrooms where the true essence of learning seemed forgotten as if lost in the echoes of traditional rote...
Mind AtticDust Bunny Rebellion
In the shadowy underbelly of a cluttered living room, dust particles drifted slowly in the angled beams of late afternoon sunlight. A mess of forgotten snacks, socks, and tangled cords covered the floor, creating a maze of obstacles. Amidst this chaos lay the dimly lit makeshift headquarters of the dust bunny brigade. Here, shadows hugged the edges, and specks of glitter from a birthday party twinkled faintly in the corners—a safe spot far from the often-cleaned open floor patrolled by the dr...
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Mind AtticI am a Villain in My Own Story
I’ve caused the death and suffering of 3470 animals and inflicted tremendous damage to the planet—this is my confession.Nobody is a villain in their own story. We’re all the heroes of our own stories. George R. R. Martin.Well, I messed up because I’m a villain in mine.I Was a Good KidMy mother used to feed half of the stray cats in the neighbourhood. She couldn’t stand the smell of fish but prepared it every day for the homeless sleeping furballs seizing our balcony. Our family adopted five c...
Mind AtticBlockchain for Kids: A Journey with 'DuckChain Quest', Mind Attic, TinyTap, and OpenCampus
The Spark of RebellionEvery story has a beginning, and the saga of Mind Attic was born from a spark of rebellion – a dream to break free from the shackles of conventional education. This dream, held in the mind's attic of a young learner, gradually took shape, eventually materializing as an educational revolution.Where Traditional Education Falls ShortMany an afternoon was spent in classrooms where the true essence of learning seemed forgotten as if lost in the echoes of traditional rote...
Mind AtticDust Bunny Rebellion
In the shadowy underbelly of a cluttered living room, dust particles drifted slowly in the angled beams of late afternoon sunlight. A mess of forgotten snacks, socks, and tangled cords covered the floor, creating a maze of obstacles. Amidst this chaos lay the dimly lit makeshift headquarters of the dust bunny brigade. Here, shadows hugged the edges, and specks of glitter from a birthday party twinkled faintly in the corners—a safe spot far from the often-cleaned open floor patrolled by the dr...
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In the warmth of a perfect summer day, the world seemed at peace, but not for John. With silver hair framing a face marked by time, he sat, tears blurring his vision as he clutched a digital frame. He hugged it close, a gesture of farewell to a part of himself, and exhaled a shaky breath, a mix of regret and resolve.
John’s study was a haven of old-world charm with a pulse of the new, where books lined the walls, and technology whispered secrets of wealth and power. He approached his computer, the screen lighting up to reveal his dilemma: "Investment Options." Three choices glared back at him.
The first option offered John a way to enrich the public realm, especially in education and science. Yet, it promised little to no financial return for himself. The second, highlighted as "Recommended," promised modest gains but with benefits for society — a balance of gain and give. The third, marked "Popular," dangled the allure of immense personal wealth but warned of potential peril to the public.
John paused momentarily at the first option. With disgust and a hasty flick, he tapped the "don't show this again" box, effectively erasing the altruistic path from his sight.
John hovered between the remaining choices, his face etched with the turmoil of conscience. For a fleeting moment, the second option glowed invitingly, offering a rare opportunity for a win-win. Yet, his eyes darted around, scanning for any judgmental gaze. Finding none but feeling the weight of unseen eyes, he gravitated toward the third option. With eyes closed, he tapped the screen repeatedly.
Stares at The digital frame, he held so dearly. A money graph — a live pulse of his fortune — surging upwards. John's eyes sparkled with a mix of triumph and madness. In a moment of euphoria, he jabbed at the second option, a feeble nod towards redemption. But the graph twisted sideways, the money frozen in place.
In a rush of desperation, John hit "don't show this again" for the second option. The screen shifted, the third option sliding into the now-vacant space. Then, a new, fourth option appeared, ominous with its grim warnings. It showed a stark image: on one side, society in chaos and flames; on the other, a mountain of wealth.
John tapped the fourth option, again and again, and again…
Time passed. Now standing, a smile was fixed on John's face as he admired the view from the spacious balcony. A sigh of satisfaction and relief escaped him.
He moved towards the bed, preparing for sleep. Casting a last glance at the cherished digital frame on the nightstand, its graph now soared skyward, declaring him the wealthiest man. Gently, he hugged and kissed the frame goodnight, then pressed a button on the remote.
As John settled into the single bed, the night's silence was broken by the heavy clank of steel shutters rolling down. The room's artificial daylight began to fade, obscured by the descending metal. The scene shifts, revealing John's expansive view as just a screen showing "Happy World" scenes.
Our view widens to reveal a sweeping panorama of the city, John's residence marginalized to one side. The quiet is shattered by distant gunfire, the air filled with intermittent screams and the urgent wail of sirens.
In the distance, flashes light up the horizon, casting eerie shadows as mushroom clouds of fire bloom, one after another, in a relentless sequence of destruction.
Then, silence.
The sky, painted in apocalyptic hues, is mirrored on the steel shutters of John's impenetrable bunker. Outside, the world succumbs to turmoil, a stark contrast to the serene darkness enveloping John, the wealthiest man, now asleep in his silent, sealed-off sanctuary.
THE END
Now in flipbook — www.mindattic.io/flash-fiction
In the warmth of a perfect summer day, the world seemed at peace, but not for John. With silver hair framing a face marked by time, he sat, tears blurring his vision as he clutched a digital frame. He hugged it close, a gesture of farewell to a part of himself, and exhaled a shaky breath, a mix of regret and resolve.
John’s study was a haven of old-world charm with a pulse of the new, where books lined the walls, and technology whispered secrets of wealth and power. He approached his computer, the screen lighting up to reveal his dilemma: "Investment Options." Three choices glared back at him.
The first option offered John a way to enrich the public realm, especially in education and science. Yet, it promised little to no financial return for himself. The second, highlighted as "Recommended," promised modest gains but with benefits for society — a balance of gain and give. The third, marked "Popular," dangled the allure of immense personal wealth but warned of potential peril to the public.
John paused momentarily at the first option. With disgust and a hasty flick, he tapped the "don't show this again" box, effectively erasing the altruistic path from his sight.
John hovered between the remaining choices, his face etched with the turmoil of conscience. For a fleeting moment, the second option glowed invitingly, offering a rare opportunity for a win-win. Yet, his eyes darted around, scanning for any judgmental gaze. Finding none but feeling the weight of unseen eyes, he gravitated toward the third option. With eyes closed, he tapped the screen repeatedly.
Stares at The digital frame, he held so dearly. A money graph — a live pulse of his fortune — surging upwards. John's eyes sparkled with a mix of triumph and madness. In a moment of euphoria, he jabbed at the second option, a feeble nod towards redemption. But the graph twisted sideways, the money frozen in place.
In a rush of desperation, John hit "don't show this again" for the second option. The screen shifted, the third option sliding into the now-vacant space. Then, a new, fourth option appeared, ominous with its grim warnings. It showed a stark image: on one side, society in chaos and flames; on the other, a mountain of wealth.
John tapped the fourth option, again and again, and again…
Time passed. Now standing, a smile was fixed on John's face as he admired the view from the spacious balcony. A sigh of satisfaction and relief escaped him.
He moved towards the bed, preparing for sleep. Casting a last glance at the cherished digital frame on the nightstand, its graph now soared skyward, declaring him the wealthiest man. Gently, he hugged and kissed the frame goodnight, then pressed a button on the remote.
As John settled into the single bed, the night's silence was broken by the heavy clank of steel shutters rolling down. The room's artificial daylight began to fade, obscured by the descending metal. The scene shifts, revealing John's expansive view as just a screen showing "Happy World" scenes.
Our view widens to reveal a sweeping panorama of the city, John's residence marginalized to one side. The quiet is shattered by distant gunfire, the air filled with intermittent screams and the urgent wail of sirens.
In the distance, flashes light up the horizon, casting eerie shadows as mushroom clouds of fire bloom, one after another, in a relentless sequence of destruction.
Then, silence.
The sky, painted in apocalyptic hues, is mirrored on the steel shutters of John's impenetrable bunker. Outside, the world succumbs to turmoil, a stark contrast to the serene darkness enveloping John, the wealthiest man, now asleep in his silent, sealed-off sanctuary.
THE END
Now in flipbook — www.mindattic.io/flash-fiction
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