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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1098560-Unknown
by Rielle
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Sci-fi · #1098560
My mind isn't of metal; it is of- Deceit treachery hate how could you? How could I?
Unknown

Heeltoeheeltoeheeltoeheeltoeheeltoe. How could you? How could you? I had to. But how could you? You don’t understand. You know what will happen. It may not. Don’t be stupid.

The air is filled with scents. The ground and world are filled with sights. There is no one out. It is past curfew. Heel toe, heel toe, heel toe. My mind is filled with thoughts. Thoughts are jealous creatures, clamouring for attention and priority before all others. There are too many to process, too many to think through. Heel, toe, heel, toe, heel, toe…Move! They are coming for you!

Heel toe, heel toe, toe. Clang! Damn! I push myself off the ground. What an odd expression. Strange thoughts come from panic, and the stranger they are the more they demand my attention. They cannot hold my attention; the real world calls to me from afar, reaching out to me through a dark, muddy veil that clings and pulls at my mind, willing it to stay with my thoughts, but my senses are aggravated, twitching with fear at every little sound. I feel like the animals in the storybooks for my son. Alert, wary, aware of every sound and movement, of every obstacle-

Squawk! Honk! Cry! I trip, flipping backwards through the air. Gasping, I push myself to my elbows, squinting as even the dusk sun glints off the metallic surface of my world. A group of metal sparrows, shocked by my loud approach, launch themselves into the air from the metal bush they were concealed in. To give a warning to the world- a criminal is here. They were frightened. They know. I grimace and lift myself up. Heeltoe, heeltoe, heeltoe, heeltoe, heeltoe.

My house is close. It is not my house. But it is near, all the same. The doors that are no different than any other doors, yet I know it is mine. The bush is the same as all the others, everything is the same, yet I know it. Nothing is distinguishable from my neighbor’s house- there are no windows to see into the world of privacy. What privacy? There is none. Then why did you call it the world of privacy? The screen forbids that. I didn’t mean to. Watch your words.

Biiizzzz …

Biiiiiiiiiizzzzzzzzz ……

BIIIIIIZZZZZZZZZZZ ……


I almost utter a curse upon them, but catch myself. Wise decision. They’ve already locked my door…. How can I get in? The bush. Use the bush.

BANG! BAAAAANNNNNNG! CRASH!
The broken door clatters to the ground. Sweating, I heave the metal bush away from me, back towards its first and final resting place. It resembles my thoughts. That thought springs unbidden, like all the others, and I can make no sense of it. My mind is not of metal; my mind is of- Deceit and lies, treachery and hate. How could you? How could I? How could I? You could. You did.

Heeltoe, heeltoe, heeltoe, heeltoe. The camera, check the camera. Off. The screen, the screen must be on! The metal screen is blank- there is not even the static that sometimes occurs when the screen is not working properly and I must call a mechanic. I have been exiled. Check the rooms-- look for your wife. Look for you son. They are not here. Maybe they went to the park. The park was torn down five years ago. They have been taken. Are they in the kitchen? No. The kitchen is quiet; the lights are dim. They do not brighten when I enter. My house has been disconnected from the mainstream. My neighbor will have lights on inside his house, he will be finishing his evening meal and his child will be in bed. My child has been taken and I will have no evening meal. They will come soon. I will not go. Then they will suffer. Haven’t you done enough? I will go. I will pay for…for my crime. You must. I will.

How could you? I had to. What would it have been if I hadn’t? You would be eating. Would I be happy? Are you happy now? I am one. Are you? …No.

Tap tap tap. Click click click.

They are here. Do not run. I will not run.

Taptaptap. Clickclickclick.

They are getting closer. Do not run. I will not run.

TAPTAPTAP. CLICKCLICKCLICK.

They are here. You cannot run. I will not run. There is nothing anymore. I have crossed the line, no, I have leaped it. More strange expressions. They will take me. I will have to face them. Do not run! They will catch you and it will be all the worse! How could you? I cannot run.

Clink. Cold, hard metal on my skin. Spiders scurry over my body, searching for anything. They find nothing. I have nothing. I have nothing anymore. You have you. Not even me. There is no “me” anymore. I have no lights, no screen. I do not exist, except to kneel in front of them. I look at my hands, bound with metal links- handcuffs. They chafe. I do not complain. They would only be made tighter.

Tap tap tap. Click click click. Shhhkkkk…..shhhkkkk….shhhkkkk….Your feet are dragging. I will not pick them up. Nothing in my heart steps high; my feet will not be lively.

Clang! Ummfff! Warm wet trickles down my forehead, tantalizing, agonizing. I reach to brush it off; my hands do not move. The floor- it is magnetic. I read about magnets when I was the age of my son- my handcuffs are metal. I cannot move my hands, nor my feet, with their metal shoes. I see red; it drips down and down past my eyes, along my nose, into my mouth. It tastes like salt. You have never tasted salt. It is forbidden. How would you know? Because I heard about it from an elder. They have tasted salt, before it was forbidden. They have also tasted blood. They say they taste the same. You must wait now. They will come for you soon. And then it will begin. It has already begun. It will just be continued. Perhaps. Or perhaps this has been a prelude, and the beginning is just now about to start.

Fwoosh!
My hands spring up to my head; more warm wetness trickles down. Fingers snap, spiders bring me to my feet- not gently, as human hands would, but with sharp, prickly pokes into my joints that make me lurch and tremble until I am standing. I am escorted- if that is the correct word- it isn’t- from the metal room with the magnet floors.

Fwoosh! Doors slide open, cool air hits my face, still sweating. Sweat and blood mingle together. All you need are tears. You’ve heard that phrase somewhere before. Do you remember? I do not remember- what time is there for remembrance?- but I will have the tears soon enough. Clang! Clink! Smash! More wetness to trickle my body and soak my thin clothes. Will it never end? It will, soon enough. I look up; there is my wife and son, but I cannot reach them. I do not know if I wish to. There is also a man. A live one- no metal robots. He has a slate in front of him, smooth, shining steel. He begins to read from it. He is reading my crime. He is reading my sentence. He speaks of- No! You cannot say! I cannot say. I cannot even think. It is too painful. No, it is too shameful.

Time has passed. The tears came, in flooding torrents worse even than the blood. They have since dispersed, but they leave behind traces to remind me of what I have done. Blood, sweat, and tears. The screams are still in my mind. What you have done to them. The man’s words have cut deep into my memory. There will be no memory soon. But the screams over power the man. The high, shrill screams, of pain, of fear, the screams for mercy. And the faces. They stick in my mind too. The horror-struck faces as my crime is read out to them. The shame and fright at the awfulness of what I’ve done. Whether my eyes are open or closed, I see them, through the red of the blood, the clear of the sweat, the salt of the tears. They didn’t understand. And they never will. There will be no one to explain to them why. Unless where they have gone is a place that holds all the answers and there they may find their sanctuary. Will I go there? Perhaps. Perhaps not. It is impossible to tell.

Fwoosh!
The doors slide open. My hands spring up again from the metal floor, but this time my face is averted and I have nothing to fear from the blood. More from what is to come. Spiders drag me to my feet- poking and pinching as I shake my limbs from their sleep. Sleep will come soon enough. No time for that now. Tap tap tap. Click click click. Shhhkkkk….shhhkkkk…..shhhkkkk. Your feet are dragging again. I do not care.

Clang! Ummmfff! The pit is deep and dark and covered by metal as soon as I fall in. I struggle to my feet, but there is nothing to see. There is no man. There is nothing. Tap tap tap. Click click click. Tap ta t… Click Cli Cl… the spiders fade away. I am alone. Now I must wait. It will start soon. The beginning of the end. The end of the end.

Rush!
The water starts to pour in. I look up, there are the bright lights, then- Clang!- the metal lid closes over. I cannot see, but I can hear. The water is coming. It slops at my ankles, rushing and rushing, faster and faster. My calves, now my knees. It is cold; I almost cannot bear it. You have no choice but to bear it. It will all be over soon. Not soon. Not soon. An eternity. The water is at my thighs.

Oh, my darling! What have I done to you? I have turned you away, I have been selfish! And now you are gone! Now you are gone. The water reaches up to my waist, now. More tears are coming, coming for my darling. Oh, I miss her! The missing will be over soon. In an eternity. Soon. The water reaches my chest.

Now it is at my armpits. Hiss! Portals have opened- splash!- something has been dropped. Splash! Splash! Splash! I recoil- it touched my leg. Ahhhh! I have been bitten! It has bitten me! The water is at my chin; my feet are glued to the floor. Ahh! It bit me again! Pain seeps through me, blocking my senses, as the water covers my nose. Dull, blurry, I cannot hear, I cannot feel, I cannot breathe. It is over now. It was an eternity. It was an eternity in two minutes. The end has come. No. The beginning is here. The beginning has passed. The end has come; there is no more.

They’ll never understand. I had to. I swear I had to. How could you? I had to. You fool.

Fin

A/N: Read the Giver by Lois Lowery or something like that if you haven't. It's one of the best books ever.
© Copyright 2006 Rielle (rielle at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1098560-Unknown