A scream, my scream is not heard. Where is Papa? Mama?
The woods were dark, gleaming with the sheen of light and machine oil. The metal arches that curved and bent made haunting cyborg replicas of trees, rooted themselves into the ground where harsh pain filled indents rested. I huddle, feeling the smooth metal beneath me. All I see is, black and silver, of metals, of something cold. The shirt and shorts are dirty, the colorful beautiful dream they once were, is only a memory. I swallow once. Twice. The darkness has curled itself on my skin, in trails of dirt and grime as if I've done a crime so bad it shows on me.
Maybe I have though.
Maybe I did.
Maybe I'm still doing it.
Is that why? Why, Mommy and Daddy left me here? Here in this cyborg forest? Spiders pinch and leave their mark of blood, pain and oil. Leaves crackle but aren't breakable. I fidget, I shudder, night is night, night is always and always is night.
I am not a good girl. I am not a good girl.
Is that why I'm here?
What happened to my kingdom? My freedom?
The screams, my screams are not heard. They never are.
The only human thing, I see, are science's cats, curious to the grave, staring, staring and scribbling. Staring at me. A little girl.
...Maybe a criminal.
~
YOU ARE READING
the decayed
Short StoryShort story collection. Note: I'll be rewriting these and posting up new versions. I don't think I'll delete this but like yeah.
