Those Unwritten - By Donna Levin

Written By: Donna Levin

Category: Sci Fi

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

Introducing Donna Levin's compelling short story, "Those Unwritten," a captivating entry in the Sci-Fi category of the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. A narrative that transports us into a future where technology and humanity intertwine, "Those Unwritten" challenges our notions of memory and identity. As part of this prestigious competition, Levin's work invites readers to question the cost of technological advancement and the impact on personal connections in a world driven by innovation.

About the Work

"Those Unwritten" by Donna Levin offers a poignant exploration of the human condition through a sci-fi lens, weaving a narrative that is both haunting and thought-provoking. The story's vivid imagery and intricate plotlines merge to create a dystopian tapestry that examines the fragility of memory and the essence of identity. Levin's literary style immerses readers in a world where technology blurs the lines between life and oblivion, leaving a profound impact long after the last word is read.

Those Unwritten

Original Submission by Donna Levin

?? ?? ???????:

White.

A brief flash of a face, hidden behind a mask. It would need to be exact, no mistakes could be made. There weren’t enough resources.

The coils of the wires tightened around the wrist. Snapped synapses into place and rearranged vertebrae, slithered and coiled around the spine.

Another flash, a distant memory. Warmth, yellow flittering and orange droplets pouring above. Yes. It was there just a glimpse more….

It snapped, the base of the skull rang out in fury.

Black.

Eve 1:

“The sunset is always nice, isn’t it?” Steve grinned at his wife, Eve. She had to agree. After a long day’s work cleaning solar panels in the city, it was always nice to escape the tall bleak buildings and return to the vast expanse of the desert. Eve watched as the sun sank behind the earth; orange tinted skies mixed with bright yellow bursts of light. She moved her hair out of her face , blowing in from the wind on her back.

“We should go inside before it gets dark.” She said leaning into his arms.

“I don’t have the right clothing to go against the cold”, Steve hummed in agreement. While the expanse of sand and sun was hot during the day it could be cold and unforgiving at night and the couple didn’t want to get caught by surprise and have to deal with any sickness that crept along the cold. Originally people lived inside the city, skyscrapers towering over the hills and lands, fitting and squeezing as many people as possible into their neat neighborhoods. That was until the tax. As space became scarcer, landlords began to tax more and more…until eventually people couldn’t afford to live in the city at all. Now the City was barren and empty. No one was allowed to live on the land anymore anyway; it was considered blasphemous to step onto the grounds without a priest present.

The white sand sank beneath Eve’s heels. As she walked into her small rondavel built from the salty concrete of the coast, the night followed her, dotting the sky with small unobservable stars above . Steve sighed as they entered the house. Scanning his eyes across the kitchen where he had left his cooking equipment out. He’d spent the majority of the day, and the evening cooking for the mourners passing through to get to their loved ones.

The couple lived in between the inward layers of the new city and outward of the old. Usually when a loved one died they were uploaded and could be visited within the old city. However the trek across the desert was long and people often made a living providing hospitality to those weary travelers who needed rest and guidance. Steve began to wash up for the night and silently behind him Eve joined in the routine. The water they used wasn’t fit for drinking, it had been desalinated from the ocean in order to remove the salt. Drinking water was a luxury that couldn’t be wasted on dishes. Steve took a plate , white and clean and handed it to Eve to dry. She began in small circles in the middle and worked her way outward before taking another piece of cutlery from her husband. Nights like these were nice. When there was no one but the two of them and the silence could stretch comfortably between them. Another plate was handed to her.

“ So what meals are you thinking of for tomorrow?” Eve asked absent mindedly. It was always nice to hear her husband’s thought process into what was a mundane activity for most.

“ I’m not sure , I haven’t thought about it yet...” came the reply from Steve. Eve slowed drying the plate and turned to look at Steve,

“are you alright dear?” Her fingers began to grow cold and her breath quickened ever so slightly.

“perfectly fine, why wouldn’t I be?” Steve replied with a short smile, continuing his side if the chore. Rinse, scrub, rinse again, rinse, scrub, rinse again,

“your side of the dishes are piling, better continue.” The cold had begun to spread to her toes as a sense of dread filled the air.

“But you love to cook its all you think about.” Eve said worriedly. Steve stopped and looked at her. He sighed, a smile still playing on his lips.

“That’s the great part, I don’t have to think about the next bit anymore. Its over.”

Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong with her husband. He’d never in the 10 years they’d been married not thought about what to cook next. As her eyes darted frantically around the room, she noticed the shadows gleaming, growing around the furniture within the house. It twisted and turned in shapes and sizes that didn’t fit the objects they were cast by. Steve continued washing dishes. Dish after dish after dish…and yet no matter how many he cleaned, the same amount remained dirty, untouched.

How could she forget. How could she let something so substantial slip her mind.

Steve was uploaded, part of the program.

Her husband was dead.

????? ??????? :

The smooth surface of the screen glistened under the lights. Head swimming, vision blurred, a hand reaches out but is unable to move. How long had it been now? How long until someone noticed the absence? The lights flickered and shook.

A door opened.

Eve 2:

Opening the door to the funeral agency Eve was met with white walls and sterile sounds.

As she gently closed the door behind her, the light above flicked from green to red, signaling that the room was occupied. She clutched a small blue object tightly. Pressed it deep into her palm to keep safe.

“Key 840310 please” a voice spoke expectantly. It had a metallic sound to it, like the rustle of wires where vocal chords should be. Eve stood still, unsure of where to go. She’d never had to come here for herself. She’d never seen this place from the inside.

“Key 840310 please” the voice spoke again, matching every tone and pitch exactly as before. Eve looked across the room towards the sound. There it sat at a desk unmoving and expectant. A small cylinder with a keyhole. A well, people called it, a the bridge between the living and the dead, all one had to do was lower their key. Eve gripped the key in her palm and lifted it to the box. She felt it felt the click under her hand as she inserted it into the lock. The key to her husbands consciousness. Funny isn’t it? To think that a whole life sat within her palm. All his love, every breath he took. It was all there, within the wires and code. Her husband sat waiting for her to talk to him.

The screen sat in front of Eve sat unmoving for a few seconds before springing to life, a whir of numbers and figures showed up on the screen.

“Please state with whom you would like to speak” lit up on the screen.

“Steve Adams ” Eve said. The screen paused for a few moments more before static engulfed it. Then the fuzz began to take shape. Her husbands face emerging into the light. He was right there, she could complete the picture herself. She’d known him long enough. The way his eyebrows furrowed, the slight peach fuzz on his chin. He looked healthy, vibrant almost. Nothing like the day she’d found him, underneath the rot and-

“No!” Eve said suddenly. The Well froze, unsure of its next command.

“Apologies ma’am, it was assumed that you were here to visit your husband.” It spoke with no hint of annoyance showing. No emotion at all showing.

“ No” Eve took a breath. “I’m here to ask that you fix him.” The well processed her words

. “I do not understand the command, please state it again with a clear pronunciation and volume.”

“You’ve done something wrong that’s not my husband.” Eve said, she beginning to become frustrated as she felt anger tint her volume.

“I Do not understand the command, please state it again with a clear pronunciation and volume.” It repeated back to her. Angry tears began to prick at the corners of her eyes. She took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling,

“That’s not my husband, he…” she searched for the words to show her frustration “he’s different, somethings wrong, you’ve uploaded him wrong!” she yelled reaching her arms out to shake the Well.

“ I do not understand the command, please state it again with a clear pronunciation and volume.” Eve could feel her heart in her throat. She swallowed and looked up at the roof of the building. Painted white with four fluorescent lights dotted in each corner of the room. She took a breath and sighed and then turned in toward the Well again. This time speaking in a whisper, almost like a secret between cylinder and human.

“Please” she begged “you promised you’d preserve us in death… preserve every bit of us. But you’ve left parts of him out…he’s not complete. Maybe you can go back and re-do it? She hoped it would understand this time. She waited for what felt like the longest four seconds of her life. The screen seemed to consider her words. It whirred with the sound of internal gears processing her query. Then the Well spoke once again.

“I do not understand the command, please state it again with a clear pronunciation and volume.”

“URGH” Eve snatched the key and walked out. The door slammed behind her. Those watching from outside turned away quickly, avoiding any and all eyes contact. The voice of the Well still ringing in the distance “I do not understand the command, please state it again with a clear pronunciation and volume.” Repeating over and over again. The light above the door flickering between green and red, unsure whether to let the next mourner in. Eve looked around, mourners were everywhere. Each well contained a family, friends or people seeking advice from those who came before them. One thing set them apart from Eve, they weren’t missing their loved ones, they weren’t truly mourning, neither would Eve, she’d fix that.

Eve pawed angrily at her face and continued on, she’d fix it. Steve would come back to her. He was uploaded, he was preserved, she just had to find him.

A figure, clad in black watched as Eve’s figure grew smaller across the street. Its eyes drifting along the horizon. It tilted its head.

And began to follow.

????:

The figures warped and collided with one another. Nothing made sense anymore. There was no time. The clock had abandoned all that remained. The hand curved along the spine, numb to the pain now.

It worked.

3. Eve

Walking in a huff across once bustling streets Eve was met with strange silence. A quick scan across the streets told her that there were people inside the old city with her, lights flickering red outside each building that contained a Well. Each room containing someone mourning a loved one. Reaching out, trying desperately to cling to something, anything that proved that the dead were happy or at the very least contempt. She stopped. Unsure of where to go. Looking up at dozens of billboards scattered across the landscape for guidance. The circuits will preserve. Yes, she thought, they promised, all I have to do is explain it to someone, someone who’ll- she turned her head to look around. The M will provide. That’s who she could talk to, the M. He’d been the one to guide humanity out of despair. He’d be able to fix her husband.

She slung her camelback over her shoulder to check how much water she had left. It was 500ml and from experience Eve knew that this meant she had around 25 big swigs left from the bottle. She’d had to find her way out soon. There were no holy men to guide her, and the wind had begun to pick up around her. She held the key tighter in her palm. Flecks of sand surfing the wind stung her eyes. In the distance she saw a silhouette, long and dark. She squinted and quickly darted further into the city.

The buildings grew from small and squatted into larger, sharper structures. She took a sip of water 24 left. She’d only ever been on the outskirts of the city, sweeping at the outer wall’s solar panels. But here, further in. Massive skyscrapers filled her vision. Their stature blocked out the sun. The hot climate of the desert vanished making way for cold shadows to stretch along the ground. Her steps became uneven. Eve wasn’t sure where she was. No one spoke about this in the city. All she’d ever known was that the city housed all the Wells that connected the dead. But the wells had to be connected to something. The holy men had spoken about him. Told her that it was where everyone was uploaded. But they said they didn’t know where to find him. They said the M was missing. Was he here? Tucked away in the cold darkness. Lying in wait? Perhaps if she could find the M, he could fix Steve. He could re-upload every part of her husband. She’d get him back. She’d get Steve back. She took another sip of water.

She was shivering. The cold had begun to seep into the thin clothes she was wearing. It was the heat of day when she left to get to the Well. 19 sips left.

The question now was which direction to go. A glance told Eve that the terrain was mostly the same going both forward and back. If she went back though she’d hit the outskirts again and who knows if she’d be able to come back this far in without being stopped. If she let her eyes follow the old tar streets Eve could see that the roads were built in blocks and squares. A grid plan built on right angles to form rectangular blocks. The M would be in the middle. That’s what all the stories said. But how does one find the middle of a square? And not just one square but squares within squares. After considering this for a while Eve came to the conclusion that the best route would be to simply walk in a straight line and if she came out of the other side of the city without hitting the center it would mean she was on one of the far sides of the square rather than in the middle.

A flash of movement caught her Eve as she began to walk. A dark spot against the shadows. Squinting Eve couldn’t quote make out the figure. So she kept walking. As the sound of her footsteps filled her ears, she was aware of another set…. quieter but heavier. She walked forward a few steps. The pair followed. She stopped, and so did the pair. She looked down at the key in her hand. She didn’t dare turn around. There was something behind her, and it was following...

???:

01000001 01100101 01110010 00100000 01010000 01101000 01100001 01100101 01110010 01100001 Child of 01000001 01110100 01101101 01101111 01110011 00100000 01010000 01101000 01100001 01100101 01110010 01100001 status: deceased.

Save to files. Delete

4. Eve

Eve tilted her head behind her. It was still there. The woman. She was sure of it. Eve had heard about people like this. Those who had no loved ones uploaded. The holy men called them Weeping Women. People without purpose.

“You shouldn’t be this far inside.” A voice from behind Eve spoke. She cringed at it. It was raspy and raw. Dead of emotion. Closing her eyes, Eve turned very slowly. Hunching her shoulders to make herself seem smaller. She swallowed.

“I got lost I’m so sorry”, she paused unsure of what to make out if front of her. She was sure she was being followed by a weeping woman. Her voice was tainted by sorrow and grief, melting inti every word she spoke. The woman in front her was tall, adorned with black garments, eyes a permanent red, a sign of the weeping. “I’m sorry who are you?” Eve asked after a moment of staring. The woman’s eyebrows knotted

“You shouldn’t be this far inside.” She spoke again this time with a firmer set to her voice. “If you’re lost, I’ll guide you out but it’s dangerous to be this far inside alone.” Eve blinked once, twice a thought popped into her head. Steve would’ve called her cheeky for it but she didn’t care she hadn’t spoken to anyone besides the Well in weeks.

“I’m not alone” Eve finally said putting her hands on her hips. The woman’s eyes widened as she frantically looked around before finally frowing. The woman looked at Eve and huffed.

“Fine” she said. “You want to play like that Ill bite” and grabbed Eve’s hand and began tugging her towards the outskirts again. “Hey wait!” Eve yelled. “Let me go!” Eve tugged at her arm, but the woman had an iron grip.

“I have to find the M so he can fix Steve!” Eve yelled desperately. The woman laughed, cold and bitter. Eve gave up on fighting the woman and began to walk next to her instead of being dragged behind her, and a thought occurred to her. “you’ve tried?” Eve said, The Woman kept walking and muttered

“I’m not naïve enough for that”, and with that she was done talking and wouldn’t say another word.

The sunlight was back again as the buildings finally began to look normal.

“I hadn’t realized how far I’d gone in.” Eve whispered to herself. The woman grunted in response. Eve realized she’d been walking for a few kilometers next to a woman holding her hand and didn’t even know her name. Eve looked at the hand she was holding closer, what would the holy men think of her for trusting a weeping woman. They’d say she’d gone mad, that she was blasphemous.

“How do you know your way around here?” Eve asked woman stared hard,

The woman shook her head facing forward, “Some questions are best left unanswered.” Eve took a swig of her water bottle, unsure of what that meant. The two had fallen into a neat rhythm together. Left right left right, or if Eve concentrated their feet walking together went one two one two. It helped to pass to time. Steve and her used to make a game out of it, seeing how many sets of ones and twos it would take until they walked from their house to the city. That game didn’t exist…not anymore, but Eve would fix that. There was one thing that Eve couldn’t quite shake. It had been bothering her since the woman had shown up and at this point she had walked so far, she might as well ask.

“Are you a…. weeping woman?” she said tentatively. The figure stopped.

“That depends” she said, “do you believe the M truly saved us?” The woman looked at Eve expectantly.

“Of course!” Eve spluttered, “He saved us in life and preserve us in death, why wouldn’t I believe that, I have proof of his virtue.” Eve thought of the key in her pocket.

“Then I needn’t say more” the woman huffed. Eve kept her mouth shut, best not to bite the hand that feeds, or guides in this case. The walk continued in silence.

Eve lifted her head and saw that the buildings had begun to shrink again as the terrain became more recognizable. They were back at The Wells. The same small round buildings that each housed the lock to the next world. The same lines of people waiting desperately to reconnect with a loved one. Then something caught her eye. A mass of people had begun to surround one of The Wells. Not just any people, law enforcement. Neat men dressed in a tight white uniform, yelling orders and pushing people away from The Well.

Eve felt a weight leave her hand.

“Where are you-?” but the woman had disappeared using the shifting sands to cloak her movement.

How would she find her again. She’d have to report this to one of the holy-men.

“YOU!” Eve’s eyes snapped away from the horizon. “Are you Eve Adams?” a man dressed in a white uniform came storming up to her. “I said are you Eve Adams” he said, emphasizing the name like it was a crime.

“Yes sir! ” she’d best report the sighting before they accused her of mingling with unwarranted people, “Inside the city there’s-” The man sneered, his yellow teeth poking out from under his lips.

“Nice try, you’re under arrest”.

“No wait!” but it was too late Eve was spun around and handcuffed.

??????:

The cuffs didn’t hurt anymore. The lines against the wrist were red and raw, but nothing could stop it now. It was too deep in. The body didn’t know the mind. 01101111 01111010 01111001 01101101 01100001 01101110 01100100 01101001 01100001 01110011

5. Eve

10 sips left. The jostle of the truck had become numb. Eve wasn’t sure how long shed been traveling. The city had disappeared over the horizon long ago and only the sun remained. Horizons of wasteland and decay stretched as far as the eye could see and up, only a blue sky stood, uncaring of the passing of time. She’d fix this, she just had to explain herself. She’d tell them about the mishap with the well and how she got lost and was coerced by that wretched woman. She’d get out. She’d fix this.

The truck jerked coming to a halt. 9 sips left. Eve sat quietly in the back. The air felt different., harder…saltier? That explained why the land had become so flat. They must’ve stopped in a salt pan, but why. They should be at the city jail, not here. The truck door slammed shut.

“Out. Now”, the man barked. Eve wobbled, static bounced up her legs from the long journey sending waves of needles through her knees. She was grateful they’d left her with her backpack at least. Not that she could take it off easily with her hands cuffed together. Water would be vital now, and she didn’t know when she would be able to refill the pack. She slipped the key into her pocket as well, making sure to always be aware of the weight it carried so as not to lose it.

“I said OUT” the man was beginning to lose his patience. Eve gingerly stepped out of the truck. The salt crunched as her feet made contact.

“Listen about The Wells”, Eve began.

“Quiet”, the man snapped. He pointed to a small dot on the horizon, wobbling in the heat. Her sentence. But why had they parked so far, the car could manage the dunes, there was no need to walk.

“Right”, the man said. “The time is now midday,” he dug into his back pocket. “When I fire this”, he held out a small gun. “Be ready to run.” Eve’s eyes widened. That explained the parking.

BANG! The gun went off and Eve bolted toward the building. She stumbled, her feet sinking into the hot sand around her. BANG! Another shot sounded through the air. Eve lurched herself forward, her legs felt like steel rods that wouldn’t bend. The building grew nearer. She was close. Bang. The shot sounded further away.

Eve’s breath fought its way out of her, she wasn’t one for sport, and it was showing. She slipped her backpack off her, and gulped down the water greedily, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6. She wiped her mouth as her lungs stopped heaving. She’d made it to the building; its bricks caked in the sun with sand filtering through the doorway.

“Looks like we got another body”, a voice smiled from inside.

???

Prompt: create an art piece inspired by art of the past but make it modern. And don’t use any interpretation by prisoner #1.

-understood generation in progress.

6 Eve:

Any air still left inside Eve’s lungs immediately seized as her blood turned to static in her fingers. A large shadow curled around the corner. Round and plump. The footsteps echoed through the building.

“Step inside”, it beckoned. Eve took a step forward, she heard the sound of material drifting in the wind. “my childhood there is nothing to fear.” Eve stopped, my child? What kind of prison was this? Then she saw him. It wasn’t a guard or warden no it was something kinder with a soft smile. The relief hit Eve with a sudden force. It was a Holy-man, someone to finally guide her properly through the whirlwind shed been put through.

“Now I know all about you’re -er- little fiasco ,shall we call it” the Holy-man smiled awkwardly.

“About that-“ Eve began.

“No no” the man ushered her further inside, “well have none of that now.”

The Man led Eve toward the far corner of the building, hidden by the sheer number of walls built within the facility. There floor were made of concrete, hard and cold the complete opposite of the hot sand from outside.

There in the corner unkempt and filled with sand stood a cell, bumped against two walls with a rusty gate. Why was the cell filled with sand and everything else not? The man led Eve inside.

“Now this is where you’ll be staying until we can get you ready for the M.” he wiggled his eyebrows approvingly.

“what?” Eve stood abashed. “ I don’t understand.”

The man’s eyes closed slightly as he gently took her hand and coaxed her further into the cell. Eve followed quietly.

“You’re outburst at the Well can be fixed, the damage you have caused can also be fixed.” He tucked a piece of Eve’s hair behind her ears then moved to take her camelback off her shoulder.

“Outburst at the Well?” Eve asked handing her backpack over to be re-filled. “I didn’t damage anything I thought you were arresting me because-“

“the first step to healing is acceptance my dear” the man smiled with too many teeth. Eve tried to argue again but the man had slipped out behind her to the other side of the gate. “The mind is intact, we will fix the bodies failures.” The man locked the door behind him and slipped out of sight.

Eve stood quietly listening to the wind howling outside the wall. She licked her lips.

“Wait!” she slammed against the bars. “My water, you’ll bring it back wont you.” Silence drifted in response. “Hello?” Please” she begged, “Anyone?”.

“Id save my voice if I were you,” another voice floated through the hall, raspy like sandpaper scraping against stone. “He only refills at the end of the day, and Id say were only around midday, so best save yourself for as long as possible.”

Eve sat down against the bars. Running the cold sand through her fingers.

“Are a holy-man too?” she finally asked.

“what did I say about saving your voice?” the response came quickly, “and don’t insult me like that again.”

The winds continued to breeze through the dunes outside.

Eve stayed quiet. A million questions flooding her mind but she knew pestering the voice would only lead him to block her more. There seemed to be only two of them in the prison. Perhaps if she stayed quiet long enough he’d begin to talk to her.

The Sun moved slower than usual. Eve felt like someone had poured dry concrete down her throat. She hadn’t eaten in a while too. Her last good meal was before Steve, he was the cook not her. Thinking about Steve brought tears to her eyes, it was silly to cry not when she was so dehydrated. She wiped her eyes.

“Crying isn’t the smartest move you know.” The voice drifted in again.

“I’m well aware thanks.” Eve shot back.

Silence stretched for a few seconds.

“So what did you do? I heard that you destroyed a well, must’ve felt really good.” There was a smile to the voice.

“I didn’t, or at least I don’t think I did, I don’t know.” Eve said defeated.

“Oh, well that sucks. If id got in for destroying a well at least I would’ve felt like od done something.” The voice shrugged.

“Why are you here then?” Eve asked.

“Art” was all the voice answered, “I'm here because of art”

Eve opened her mouth to respond but footsteps echoing down the hall caught her attention.

“Here you are my dear” the holy-man appeared again, “a full camelback of water.” He slid the backpack through the bars. “Enjoy” the man turned and trotted off again.

Eve took the backpack greedily and began gulping down as much water as possible. 1,2 – “pfft”, she spat it out disgusted.

“Ah, yeah he does that” the voice said sympathetically.

“Salt water” Eve said flabbergasted, “he gave me salt water” she was angry, she’d spent an entire day alone with nothing but her own thoughts and a cryptic prisoner , dwelling about her dead, no broken, husband. And now in reward she gets Salt water to drink. “they’re trying to kill me” she whispered. “I don’t understand, they didn’t even arrest me for being with that Weeping Woman and they fixed the well they think I broke…..why would they do this.”

“isn’t that the age old question huh, why?”, “why am I here, what’s the meaning of life, why do they do this?” the voice paused his rant. “There’s no answer kid….that’s the unfair bit.” “There’s no reason for this.”

Eve ran her tongue against the palate of her mouth wilting at the taste of the salt. Her lips felt dry, and now there was no remedy for her to fix it. Was there even a way for her to fix Steve?

She couldn’t bear to think about him. During the day it was fine, she could still see movement and life around her. There were things to distract her from him. But at night, when the darkness covered that all up. That’s when it got bad. There was nothing to do except think, and all she had to think about was Steve.

Eve sighed. Shed just wanted to visit him, that’s why she’d gone to the Well, she’d never intended for this to happen. Then again who did? Eve lay down on the cold sand and stared at the ceiling, numb and unsure of what to do.

Maybe it was a test. The thought finally jostle her out of her frozen state. Salt water was still water after all. All Eve had to do was find a way to desalinate it. She got up and took a good look at the camelback. It was a small backpack with a plastic sleeve inside to store the water and a straw leading out of it for the user. Eve’s heart sank slightly. There was no sunlight even during the day to use to evaporate the water, and even then there was no way to catch the condensate water. Eve kept turning the backpack over in her hands desperately looking for a way to fix it. There was nothing, no clever work around no loop she could find no nothing.

A dry angry sob rose through her as she tossed the pack across the cell. It wasn’t fair, why would a holy-man do this, they’re supposed to help, to lead people to salvation not this. Not lead them to this frustration. She buried her head in her hands, a small shield from the world.

“You know what the worst part of this is” the voice drifted in again. Eve stopped to listen. “It’s not the thirst, and the thirst is bad I’ll give you that.” the voice stopped for dramatic effect. Eve let a small smile grace her lips. “it’s the infernal headache that accompanies it.” Eve couldn’t bring herself to laugh, but at the very least she allowed a small huff through her nose. It was nice, to have someone else for once. Someone going through the same thing as her that wasn’t programmed to be sympathetic.

“What’s your name?” she finally asked, “I’m Eve.”

The voice went quiet for a bit…. “I can’t remember” it said softly. “Ive been in here so long with all my thoughts turned to survival, I can’t remember my own name.” The horror of the situation seemed to dawn on the voice at the same time it spoke. “I can’t remember my name” it repeated softly.

Eve understood. In the desert you lend all your energy to survival or to maintaining the Wells that you forget yourself sometimes, it wasn’t uncommon.

“Well, you said you were in here for ‘art’ right?” Eve spoke, “So how about Art, I think it’s a fitting name.”

“Art”, the voice repeated to itself. “I like it” a smile could be heard in his voice. “The very embodiment of my crime and passion, Art!” The Voice-no Art celebrated his new name. Perhaps this was the test Eve thought, to find comfort in the bleakness of survival. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad she thought.

????

The circuits welcome all, but not all welcome the circuits, some need to be prepared properly. A voice whispered softly.

7.Eve

A loud bang startled Eve out of an uncomfortable slumber. She rubbed her hands together to try to get rid of the sand that had stuck to her during the night.

“Hello?” she ventured, “Art?”

“My dear who are you talking to?” the Holy man popped out from the hall.

“The other prisoner.” Eve responded pointing to where his voice usually came from. The holy man turned and squinted a confused look running across his face. He smiled uncomfortably.

“My dear, there is no other prisoner here…. it’s just you.” He said slowly.

“What? No, I was talking to him last night.” Eve said aghast.

The priest pursed his lips together.

“Perhaps this is my fault, I’ve been trying to prepare your mind too quickly for your body to catch up. It’s alright some are weaker than others to the M’s decree.” He said trying to be as pragmatic as possible. He looked down at Eve’s water supply, “you should drink my dear it’ll help you feel better.”

Eve looked down at her water bottle.

“I can’t its salt water” she brought the water up to her lips to prove a point but instead of the sudden rush of salt she was met with the relief of fresh water. She gulped it down greedily before arguing, her mind a rush of questions and doubts. She’d heard Art’s voice clear as day, he’d known when the water would be given when Eve didn’t.

“No, he’s real, ART!” she called desperate for an answer.

“Hush child!” The holy man hissed. “If you keep calling out to people who don’t exist, I might label you as a Weeping Woman.”

Eve felt her chest jolt in fear. She wasn’t a weeping woman. They were crazy and unstable, then again, wasn’t she just calling out to someone imaginary?

She ran a hand over her mouth in agitation. Her lips were dry she’d have to be careful not to pick at them. She swallowed, her throat felt like she’d inhaled sand instead of water. She wasn’t a weeping woman, she wasn’t crazy. She kept repeating the same phrase to herself over and over again, praying that it was true.

??? ?

Those unwritten shall be re-made.

The circuits demand a face to put to his name.

Machinery shall rise

As the man lost all humanity inside.

8.Eve

Another crash echoed through the halls, great Eve was going madder by the day, or night. She wasn’t sure how long it had been. She reached for her water. Would her mind tell her it was salt or fresh water? The gamble was anyone’s guess at this point. A small sip told her it was salt today. She was tired. If it really was fresh water, why did it taste so salty. She kept drinking uncaring, her body needed to be prepared for the M. Her mind would be stronger. Her mind would be uploaded, not her body. It just had to learn that. She pick at her lips and let tem bleed a bit more, relishing in the taste of iron on her tongue. It was better than the taste of salt.

She heard footsteps echoed down the hall, must be midnight again. Isn’t it funny how the day just seems to tick forward endlessly without reason for stopping. Why didn’t it ever stop and simply let the past catch up. Was it running from something perhaps. Eve certainly was. Dear M, she couldn’t even remember his face or the way his voice used to sound. Or Art’s voice…did it count that he never existed in the first place. No he did exist she spoke to him…didn’t she? Eve couldn’t quite place it anymore.

“Good morning my dear,” that fastidious voice crept through the bars. Eve winced. She hated hearing his voice, it seemed to be the only one she couldn’t forget.

“You're not Art” she scoffed.

“I certainly hope not.” He shot back. “because then I wouldn’t exist.”

Eve felt the bitterness bubble inside her. He did exist. She wasn’t a weeping woman and Art did exist, just like Steve did.

Her lips still felt dry as her head pounded with each thought. She hadn’t even realized the holy man was still there, standing, watching her.

He took a breath and let his eyes wonder up and down Eve.

“You should drink, you look parched.” He finally said and left before Eve could speak.

She looked down at the pack, she was tired and cold and hot all at the same time. Her stomach felt hollow, like a cauldron bubbling with nothing inside. Shed finally understood why the cells were filled with sand after a few sleepless nights. It was everywhere, and she could never seem to get rid of it. It pricked her skin and itched. Scratching made it worse when the skin tore open and the grains would rush into the crevices and itch even more. It was hard and cold in the desert night and gave no comfort in the day. She hated it. Each and every grain and molecule. Everywhere she turned it was there. Stuck under her nails, in her hair, in her water, in her ears and everywhere.

She was so tired. Her eyes sagged under the weight of it all.

She tried to drink. She didn’t bother counting anymore. It didn’t matter anyway, she couldn’t control when it would be refilled.

Great, it was salt again. She didn’t know how long she could keep going. How long had she been away. That life she lived with Steve felt like it was non-existent . She quietly laughed to herself, maybe it was. Maybe she made the whole thing up and she’d been in here her whole life.

Wouldn’t that be nice? To wake up to a different world suddenly. Even if the world was bad if she woke up to it suddenly she wouldn’t be desensitized to its problems. She could fix it…at least she would’ve fixed something then.

She tore a piece of skin from her lips. They stung in protest but she didn’t care. At least something was keeping score.

Eve felt her head relieve the pressure it was holding. The pain had stopped, if only for a moment.

She lay back down slowly.

She should sleep.

?????

They say sleep is the layman’s taste of death. A way out if it isn’t up to standard. After all, if you don’t like it. All you have to do is

Wake up.

9. Eve

The sunrise was nice. The warmth from the sun hadn’t quite hit Eve’s face yet but the thought of it was exciting. A new day, with the gentle rays peeking over the dunes. She turned toward her house and began to walk toward it. The smell of cooking wafted softly through the windows. Shed missed this. It had been a while since Eve had not felt pressure building in her chest. Why was that?

“Steve?” She called out. She entered the house, door creaking softly as she entered. She should fix that someday. There he was. Back turned and facing the stove, he salted red peppers and onions in a frying pan over some small flames. Eve was sure it was the garlic that smelt so good and not the vegetables.

“Steve?” She asked again. She reached out her hand and put it on his shoulder.

The face that met her wasn’t his.

It was one shed seen a million times before.

She never thought she’d ever meet him in person though.

After all these years.

She was met with the face of The M.

The Messiah.

??? ??

Keeping count is easy, when there are no distractions.

10. Eve

“my lord” she breathed. “I’ve been searching for you.”

The man in front if her blinked. Once. Twice. Then scanned the room in front him, eyes searching each corner and crevice.

“Its my husband,” Eve began.

“He’s dead.” The Messiah spoke like it was a fact, not a suggestion.

“Yes I know, but the Wells they don’t-“

“They never do.”

Silence stretched across the room. Not even the wind made a sound outside the hut….strange.

Eve took a breath.

“People say they cannot find you.”

“They cant” he paused and stared at her. Unblinking.

“And neither can you.”

“I don’t understand I have found you, you’re here.”

“Where’s here?”

“My house.”

Eve stopped. How did she get here? Wasn’t she just in that cell. Her hand crawled up to cradle her face. Fingers glided across smooth lips.

Smooth?

They were chapped weren’t they? From the dehydration? Something to keep score…..

Her lips weren’t dry….

She blinked. Once. Twice. Then again.

Her body had kept the evidence of her life, and now it was gone.

The realization came to her slowly, like a man reaching for his last breath.

That’s what weeping woman were, weren’t they?

People who knew to listen when something other than numbers kept the score.

How many woman had stretchmark’s on their skin from their children but were told they didn’t exist because they weren’t uploaded.

How many woman had red eyes from crying for the non-existent, for those that couldn’t lived but died.

How many woman were labeled as weeping, simply because their loved ones weren’t in the well?

“ I never liked the label myself.” The M spoke staring out of the window, watching the sand noiselessly float past.

“Weeping Woman.” He let the phrase run over his tongue like it was foreign.“ Why do only the woman weep?” Surely grief is a universal experience ? Then again what do I know, I don’t have any of that left .” The sand danced in the wind, free from gravity and care.

“That’s why you made the Wells isn’t it?” “ To help cope with the grief, the loneliness of it all.”

“I didn’t make them” he shook his head. “I didn’t even ask to be here.” He rolled his shoulders and shrugged. “ They just needed a human brain to keep the computer running and a face to fawn over, they did the rest.”

“Who did?”

“You, humanity, society, whatever you want to call it.”

“Is Art here?” Eve asked after a while.

“I don’t know, he wasn’t written down.”

“Am I dead?”

“You’re here.”

Eve looked out the window too. The sand had froze as the world stood still in static and binary code.

“is Steve here?”

“ They couldn’t upload him properly.” “I think they got to him too late, happens sometimes.”

Eve remembered. Steve had been out for a few days and his body had began to decompose when she found him.

The rot had already begun.

“Do I have to be here then?” she finally asked.

“No, I can delete you from the files.”

“But no one will know about me?”

“Yes, you’ll be unwritten.”

“Would I still know me?”

“You’re the only one that would.”

“That’s all that matters.”

??????

Nothing else is known about Eve Adams, her and her husbands names had to be replaced in the files. Eve was always a good placement though, and Steve was a personal joke from someone in the system.

All that’s left are a few words burned into the screen.

Evidence of her.

“I was here,

And I wept”

________________

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, hosted by Hashtag Kalakar, celebrates the art of storytelling, inviting participants from around the globe to share their creative expressions. This distinguished competition aims to showcase diverse voices and unique perspectives across various genres, providing a platform for both emerging and established writers to engage with a wider audience. Through poetry, short stories, essays, and more, the competition fosters a community of literary excellence.

We extend our heartfelt gratitude to Donna Levin for her thought-provoking submission, "Those Unwritten," to the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. Her story stands as a testament to the power of narrative in exploring complex themes of identity and memory. Thank you, Donna, for sharing your remarkable vision with us and enriching the tapestry of this global literary event.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.