It's shocking how lonely I am.
So bored, so silent.
Day after day, it is the same. I have allies in this world, I am sure, but they must be as helpless as I.
The Boots come and the The Boots go, and for a while after it is emptier than it was before.
My food is bland, minimal- often there is no water. My throat is dry and my eyes sting from the stench of unwashed bodies and excrement.
Is this life? Is this how it is to be? Forever?
My mother is gone, lost, or perhaps it is I who is lost- I do not know. She was dragged from me and though we screamed, nobody heard. Nobody listened.
Voices discuss me as though I am not there.
The voices are cold and calculating.
They frighten me.
"Tomorrow," they say, "tomorrow".
Sleep does not come easily.
It is hard to sleep on nothing but wood. My body aches and my limbs are weak from no exercise. I am wasting away.
Why is this happening to me? Am I being punished for something?
I have so many questions and no answers.
I fall into restless sleep. I dream I am being chased by something dark, in Boots. I sense the indifference, the terrifying indifference.
Then I see my mother, and I call to her.
Our eyes meet in this wretched place, and her expression is of unbelievable sadness and confusion. I know I must reach her. I need her.
I run and run, and though I am so young, my legs are heavy and soon give in.
I collapse and no know more.
When I wake, I feel weaker than ever before.
I know I wont last long in this world that is always dark.
I hear shouting and then the doors creaking as they are opened. The Boots come inside. I tremble.
I want to be invisible.
The footsteps get louder and louder.
The Boots are right beside me now, and I see their faces, their hard expressions. I feel fear rush through my body. They untie me and lead me outside. My legs are frail like that of an elder, and yet I am so young. I am blinded by light, suffocating on fresh air, unable to stand.
I am kicked, hard, and forced up.
The Boots are making a fuss, pushing me this way and that. They have no patience.
Slowly, my eyes adjust to the daylight, my legs do their best to stay upright.
I am shoved into a dark space. It is filled with fellow prisoners, each with trembling legs and wide, anxious eyes. We are silent, but we are united. Our bodies are warm and we take comfort as best we can from one another.
There is a loud sound and a jolt and the darkness begins to move, shaking us, scaring us.
We stay like that for hours. Urine and excrement once again cover the wood and once again the smells invade my nostrils.
We grow hungry and thirsty and desperate.
We stop moving. The darkness is filled with light as The Boots open the door. We are pulled out, blinking. We are prodded with sticks, and things that sting.
We become hysterical; some try to run, some fall to the ground. I am being poked from behind, so I keep going forwards. The mud becomes concrete, the concrete becomes metal. My feet get stuck. I am kicked by The Boots. I smell dirt and shit and blood and fear. Something cold hits my brain, so cold it burns. Darkness for a while, then I come round.
I am hanging from one leg. I am upside down. Voices are loud and voices are far away.
Tears fill my eyes and fear strikes another blow to my heart.
Sharpness at my throat; deep pain and I am weakening...sounds merging, horrific...rushing into my ears, then the gushing of my blood...I taste it as it falls, and I call for my mother.
The agony of death is short in comparison with the agony of missing her.
But the slaughterhouse, and it's men in boots, see none of this.
Comments
Mangone | May 7, 2009 - 16:29
I think the menace of The Boots is good and the dark world you create could easily be a less palatable way to secretly reduce the world's population and feed the rest with Soylent Green.
It's not beyond the realms of possibilty that the comming World Food Crisis could mean a reclassification of what should be considered human and what should be considered cattle.
Let's face it, in a world run by people whose only talent is passing exams, failing exams could mean citizenship in the Land Of Boots.
SundaysChild | May 7, 2009 - 16:45
Thanks for the feedback. I hate factory farming. What is symbolises: profit over compassion and respect for sentient life. I dislike the men in boots, but I dislike the men in suits controlling the men in boots more. But the pig seldom meets them; they stand far away, lest their clothes get splattered with blood and gore.
Mangone | May 7, 2009 - 17:32
Yes, but aren't we becoming the new pigs?
Everywhere you go you see people thrusting their stomachs to the world like trophies.
I thought Al Gore's message was there are far too many people to sustain and at least half will have to go :O)
The 'suits' have the power, so long as they control their armed forces, and they have been testing that control for the last few decades.
Marxists seem to have missed the fact that machines are now the means of prodution and most of the people are superflous to requirements.
So, pretend that the World Economy is in crisis and use that as a means to create a New World Order.
Civilisation is only three or four meals deep.
"The supply of Soylent Green has been exhausted. The scoops are on the way." Then the front-end loader trucks come and scoop the people up ...
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0070723/
SundaysChild | May 7, 2009 - 18:19
'Civilisation is only three or four meals deep.'
You make some interesting points.
I basically don't like injustice, and corruption.
I don't like bullshit, and I don't like a lot of things this world seems to tolerate.
Mangone | May 7, 2009 - 20:02
Wouldn't the supreme irony be if this were a factory farm planet :O)
The Bible would make more sense - go forth and multiply...
While the pigs philosophise about the creation of the pig sty and in their hubris proclaim the depth of their knowledge and understanding - the space abattoir draws ever closer.
The Lord Of The Ages - gathering in the harvest.
Where is the Silver Surfer when you need him? :O)