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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Dark · #1458344
She is trapped in utopian hell...
The room was silent, telling no secrets of which it held; trapping time forever inside its walls. An era frozen, oblivious to the outside world, all the while keeping people like me wondering why out surroundings never evolved; a place where the leaves never fall from the tall oak trees, where snow never blankets the hardened earth. I live in a place where animals need not feed off one another, yet live in peace and harmony; and I too do not kill to live, yet I eat fruit from the tree that is always plentiful. The tree that gives me life, where as its brother brings upon the end. Sometimes I wish to eat from the forsaken tree, and it is at these times I remember. I remember things I cannot explain, mostly of my old life, the life I had before I was brought here. Oh, how I miss my mother, how I want to die again and be with her. So I go, reach out and take the fruit of death, but no longer is it there. I am being punished, I cannot cry, nor can I be upset. No, instead I do only what I can, what I now believe I was made to do…nothing…

I can see into the future, but cannot look upon the past. I know what tomorrow will bring, but cannot remember yesterday. I wake up and know that I am lost; I also know that I cannot be found. I know what tree brings life and which brings death. I know the land as if I had been there many a times before, but I do not know how to leave. I know I was brought here, but by whom I not know. I feel very frightened, but I don’t know what of. I know that I once had people called family, but I do not remember their names…

I want to cry for help, but who would hear my screams. The flowers no longer keep me company for I am ever changing and they stay beautiful and young; bloomed at their fullest, as if waiting for something of a great importance. They shall wait for all eternity though, for nothing is coming, and nothing is going. I know this now, and although I do not like the idea, I have to accept it. Accept that I probably will never escape this utopian hell until I die. If I die…oh dear Lord I hope I die. Suicide is not an option, for I have tried and failed too many times. Each time keeping my eyes closed and praying to the God I once loved as I slowly bring my makeshift weapon across my neck, and every time I wake up, healthy as can be. What did I do to deserve this? What evil magic is at work here? What sick twisted humor do is at hand, who is doing this to me? Am I merely their entertainment...?

Life is unfair, if you can call what I do living. Everyday I arise and eat until my stomach’s delight. I talk to the animals for they hold the better conversations, telling tales of how they came to be, and I listen to them, they sing a sad song. Yet I have found a happy tune amongst the dreadful, today….

As I reread my entries I look upon my last and notice I did not finish. I cannot remember what I was thinking, but I wonder if it was important. I have also noticed a small lump on the back of my head, which I do not believe was there yesterday, although I can not be sure. I am led to believe however, that I may have found an exit, but was sabotaged before I could record my findings. This, of course, leads me to my next hunch, that I am not alone here. That there must be other beings amongst me, watching my every move, making sure I do not leave. I shall find these creatures and destroy them, if that is possible. Just because I am unable to kill myself, I have yet to try and kill another being. This is a dilemma for me, for how could I kill something that has done me no harm…?

Everything is black; therefore I do not know where I am. The darkness overwhelms me, making me dizzy and tired. I do not welcome sleep nor do I reject it. I just lie here half awake, admiring the beauty of this life. I feel my eyes close and my brain shut off…

I woke covered with sweat; the nightmare consuming my every thought. I saw this man in my dreams. He did not wear skin like I do, peach and smooth; for he wore a green I’d not seen before. His face, the terror it brought, this creature had no mouth. In place was a white abyss waiting to be fed. He held weapons, [not stone knives like I have, but shinny silver objects,] in each hand, and a bright light shone upon him. He was standing over me, for I was lying down in bed of white cotton, asleep and unaware of the demon ready to attack…and then I woke up…what is happening to me…?!
© Copyright 2008 Lindsy Clapp (alterkatetin at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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