Steam, Scribbles & Sparks

A Substack SteamPunk Parody (flash fiction)

Mrs. Pennett wiped the steam off her goggles and glared at her daughters, who were all crowded around a glowing brass gadget. “Girls! Enough with this Tynder device! I just bumped into that Parisian fortune teller at the park and she says you must stop before the New Moon tonight.

From now on, if you want a proper match, it’s QuillStack only. No sparks, no zaps, no virtual flirtation!”

“But Mother!” squealed Lydia, clutching her Tynder “I have just received a new match!”

Before Mrs. Pennett could roll her eyes so hard they might spin like clockwork gears, her mechanical crow swooped down from the ceiling.

With a jagged little beak, it pecked at Lydia’s device until it shattered into tiny brass bits. Sparks flew everywhere.

Ella Pennett adjusted her goggles and said, “Good job I’m wearing these !”

Mrs. Pennet took a deep, steam-hissing breath. “Remember, daughters, QuillStack only. Letters. Proper etiquette. No more dancing with electricity and magnets.”

Grumbling, the girls logged onto QuillStack. The brass keyboard clattered, steam hissed from the valves, and finally a new post scrolled across the glowing parchment screen

“By Mr. Diracy, bestselling QuillStack author, world-famous quantum thinker (with, as the ladies whisper, Newtonian charm)

Greetings, citizens of Cogsworth-on-Thames! I shall soon be arriving in your fair town. At the church hall I will give a special reading from my new volume on quantum physics. Furthermore let it be known! the person who submits the finest written note upon Quillstack shall be rewarded with a private tutorial… in the art of bending time itself.”

The daughters shrieked so loudly the tea kettle fell off its stand. Charlotte clutched her pen like it was a sword. Lydia forgot her ruined Tynder at once and started scribbling love hearts around Mr. Diracy’s name. Ella muttered, “Honestly, if we’re bending time, I’d prefer we just skip Lydia’s teenage years altogether!

Mrs. Pennet’s monocle gleamed with ambition. “Do you hear that? A private tutorial! Imagine what could happen if one of you learned to bend time. You could rewind bad conversations, fast-forward dull dinner parties, and never miss a sale on brass corsets again.”

The gears in the corner ticked faster, as though the house itself was excited. Outside, the street lamps pulsed with a soft glow, the sort that makes you wonder whether reality itself is just politely waiting to collapse into something interesting.

Mrs. Pennet clapped her hands. “Well, no more squabbling! Ink your finest quills, polish your goggles, and compose the cleverest note this side of Newton’s apple.

Mr. Diracy is handsome, bestselling, and apparently capable of rearranging the very fabric of the universe. This is no time to be sloppy!”

And so, the Pennets set to work, scribbling, puffing steam, and dreaming of notes so witty and precise they might win not only admiration but also a one-on-one lesson in how to fold time like a well-creased letter. 😉