More Corporate Downsizing

A 500-word story about Melon Husk

Preamble

I haven't been very active here lately – I have a full-time job that takes up a lot of my time and energy. But the good news is that, sometimes, I get to spend that energy on creative projects, and, sometimes, I find a way to create things that are more…interesting.

Some of my work involves literacy. Through that, I came across the idea of micro-fiction, which involves writing extremely short stories. Typically, the most restrictive form of this is a 100-word limit. It's quite a challenge to tell a compelling and coherent story in 100 words or less. The other commonly used word limits are 500, 1000, and 1500 words.

Below is my first stab at a 500-word story 😀

If you enjoy it, be sure to read the original version of the story "Corporate Downsizing", which is the same story, but told using a 100-word constraint. If these stories speak to you, maybe check out my song "Sayin' My Lies", which was also inspired by you-know-who.

Story Text

I awoke in a dense forest.

The earth was damp beneath me and the air was heavy with the scent of pine. The only sounds were rustling leaves and the calls of distant birds.

Disoriented, I sat up and held my head, struggling to remember how I'd ended up here. My last clear memory was of my boss, Melon Husk, calling me into an impromptu meeting with Silicon Valley's most influential tech magnates.

The atmosphere had been oddly tense; Melon had smiled his usual grin, but there was something cold in his eyes. "We need to streamline operations," he'd said, glancing around the table. "It's time to eliminate our unnecessary redundancies." The heads around the table bobbed up and down like marionettes.

But everything after that was a blank.

Now, as I stood alone in the forest, I patted my pockets—no phone, no wallet. Panic began to set in. Was this some kind of prank? Or maybe I had been kidnapped?

I wandered through the foliage for what felt like hours, my heart pounding in my chest. Just as despair began to overwhelm me, I heard the crack of a branch. I rushed toward the sound, desperate for human contact.

Springing from the trees, I saw a man standing a few yards away. He was tall and clad in camouflage, with a rifle slung over his shoulder. Relief flooded through me—this man could get me back to civilization and out of these damned woods.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here," he drawled, his voice thick with a Southern accent. "You lost, boy?"

"You could definitely say that," I chuckled breathlessly. "Can you help me? I don’t know where I am."

The man laughed, a low, menacing sound. "You’re on Mr. Husk's private land, son. And he don't take kindly to trespassers."

Confusion washed over me. "Mr. Husk's private land?" I repeated, my voice unsteady. I glanced around, the reality of the forest pressing in on me. The city felt a million miles away.

The man's smile widened, but there was no warmth in it. "Mr. Husk has a unique way of handling trespassers," he continued, pausing to let the weight of his words sink in. "You're in the middle of a hunt."

A hunt.

My stomach dropped; my blood ran cold. This wasn't a random abduction—this was planned! Some kind of twisted game!

"You'd best start running," the man said, unslinging his rifle. "I do enjoy a good challenge."

Terror surged through me, and I turned and bolted back into the trees. The forest blurred around me as I ran, branches clawing at my face and tearing at my clothes. Behind me, I heard the man's footsteps, steady and relentless. A shot rang out, and I flinched as the bullet tore through the branches overhead.

All those meetings about "redundancies" and "efficiency"—so this was what Melon meant. 

The forest grew darker as the footsteps drew closer, until—at last—I finally understood the true meaning of the word "downsizing".