Skip to main content

Leave Your Aspirations at the Dump

Somewhere in the south pacific putrifying under the unrelenting tropical sun is a vast peninsula composed of the discarded scraps of civilization. A steady stream of colossal barges continuously added to the mass, causing it to expand in every direction.  The churning heap was a steadily shifting form. Uneven growing mounds of decaying mass mortared together around iron heaps. Each new layer accumulated held the scraps tossed away by an insatiable world. Like a metastasizing sickness, its poison seeped into the ocean.
Plastic forks, prayer cards, monuments, Digimon, batteries this is where everything was valued by the most impartial of standards, its utility for survival.
Living in the shadows of revolting spires that had accumulated refuse piled so high only the squalling seagulls could reach the summit were the scavengers was a little girl nearing the end of a harsh, obscure, and brief existence. Like the birds and rats, the bacteria, and the mold she subsisted on decay.
Physically she resembled a human child, but her existence lacked any uniquely human aspects. She had no family, no dreams, not even a name. She was just another wasting body counting down the hours until her flesh would become part of another scavengers bounty.
Three people were walking towards her. Their clothes were a patchwork of disintegrating rags, and their hands were covered by tattered rubber dish gloves. One of them wore a soldiers helmet while the other two had baseball helmets and their faces were obscured by surgical masks. They were pushing a wobbling cart full of scrap. The little girl leaned against a rusted doorless fridge, and obliquely looked down at her feet. The scrap men seeming unmoved by the emaciated child silently wheeled past her.
She was quietly looking for a place to wind down her final moments in relative quiet. She shuffled along until she found the gutted and rusted remains of an oven built into the base of the wall. She squatted down and looked inside. The back was cut out opening up to the other side of the colossal barrier.
Activating emergency physiological mechanisms, she found the will to crawl through to the other side to look for any life-sustaining morsel that would help her maintain a tenuous link to earthly existence just a little longer.
 Painted on what looked like a bulbous and wingless airplane was a mural of a bright red ball with the words
MISSION TO MARS wrapped around the crimson orb. Even more prominent on the hulking wreck were giant portraits of children, children of every skin tone and dressed in an array of traditional ethnic outfits. They all had aesthetically perfect smiles with straight gleaming white teeth.
“FOR US!”
Was painted above the mural.
Attached to the back were four giant bell-shaped appendaged. The weary girl climbed into the dark crevice, she curled up her body and listened to the high pitched squalling of the birds,  and the dull thumping of a hammer against steel. She closed her eyes listened as every sound reverberating from the world around her she heard with new clarity. She listened to the world until the ambiance petered out into eternal silence.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

On the Eve of Extinction

The river was like a massive indigo snake coiling in the shadow of the canyons its eternal flow cut out of the very earth. Somewhere along the watery corridor, settled human life grew out of the muddy banks. The tribe sustained itself on the arterial river, steadily expanding and contracting with the rhythm of its flow like a beating heart. As far as anyone in the tribe knew no other arrangement had ever existed. The river had birthed them, molding sand and clay into flesh, and infusing the husks with its life-giving waters. Life under the desert’s smooth turquoise sky seemed safely stagnant. There was no inkling, no deciphered omens, absolutely no hunch of the approaching cataclysm lurking just out of sight obscured by the landscape’s jagged ridges. Not far from the isolated patchwork of green and brown earth settled by this tribe, the scion of ancient god well into his twilight years was on the cusp of fulfilling his divine purpose. Harmakar was sitting in the dust staring into t

In the Blink of an Eye

 Until now, the gears of history had ground at such a slow pace our perception of it was like a puzzle. The constantly shifting pieces created an eternally changing picture inhabited and shaped by generations. Progress made it possible for the change to arrive in the form of a flash just a millionth of a second long with a blinding light and the pain of flesh-searing fire that burned away the world I knew as if it were covered in lighter fluid. For us, there were no blue skies. Daytime was just when the sun was shining bright enough to penetrate through the acrid black clouds that had consumed the sky and mingled with the distant glow of the burning horizon, painting the atmosphere with blood. For an indeterminate number of hours, maybe as long as a day, it was the only thing I saw. The constant screams became white noise; as I spiraled into death, my perceptions continued to dim until there was nothing left but fear and pain. Every hour the world became dimmer, and I saw everything t

Concubine

 Himari lay in bed on her side, staring at the barren wall with dry scarlet stained eyes resting her head on her small delicate hands. Her spent, and tired body was still as a statue. The royal child left her womb, and everyone followed it to the home of her masters, and he would be raised as one of them, and she would be nothing more than just another subject. This wasn't the only child Himari had given to her imperial lord, but the first boy hadn't lasted a week before dashing his father's hopes for a worthy progeny.  When she was with child, a stupid part of her started to forget how it would inevitably end. Once the golden boy left her womb, what happened to her wouldn't matter much after.  Even after enduring the pain of childbirth, she wouldn't be given the catharsis of cradling the fruits of her labor in her arms. That had been the hardest part the first time. Watching her baby get carried away was just the first shock, though. The little prince had clawed ou