Puppeteers
I work in a small inconsequential town serving our local townsfolk and taking care of the occasional rowdy teen. This town of sprawling green ripe for a farmers harvest; now the land sealed in autumn's grasp lies dormant and dead. It feels like my purpose was just to be another cog in the well oiled machine of another quiet town. Your typical teen, fresh out of high school all hopes and dreams ripped from my soul meant to join the ever evolving monster known by many as capitialism. Just another piece of the puzzle but to the ignorant my humble life as a manager elevates me to near god-hood in status. Customer after customer crawling from their holes to fuel the machine clueless of their true purpose dozen hearded like cattle sent to graze among fresh plains of plastic and self-affirmation.
I became absorbed in my tasks and thoughts only to be interrupted by my co-worker. Her cheary face a bright spot of color within a colorless world. We have known each other for just about as long as I can remeber. anyone can see the juxtaposition as clear as next months bills. Were my hopes and dreams fizzled out hers ignited like a forestfire despite the subtle atempts made to quell her dreams she was bound to be great to rise to the top of the world as a king. Except were I was a god she saw herself only as a servent thus her grand desires never bore fruit yet could never be truely extinguished. I jump as she grabbed my shoulder, "shouldn't you pay more attention your messing up everything's placement" she said with exsasperation. She was correct of course but I had been lost in thought latley I've had trouble concentrating. It's feels as though I have been hearing sweet whispers reminding me of my importance to the machine slipping into my thoughts correoding the good and taking control, "damn it all" I replied, "how long have been doing that for?" I questioned. I got nothing but a blank stare in my general direction for my troubles.
After a second she asked, "how are you feeling?", automatically I replied, "I'm fine why wouldn't I be" she goes through these sorts of phases constanly asking how I'm doing or if I am okey. It gets old after a time and the urge to snap back at her is constant it's a burning urge to push her away to make her hate me for her own safty. I turn away once again consumed in a fog when she grabs me once more an inexplicable anger overcomes me and visions of her broken and bleeding covered in a criss-cross of lacerations and punctures lie before my eyes. She must have noticed something in my expression because she had quickly retracted her hand with a sharp squeak. She glared a few inches above my head at what she calls the puppeteers her explanation for all evil but thats utter nonsense we have free will. Happily I say, "come on its almost closing time let's hurry up here and head home". As we quickly finish with the shelves I didn't notice the blank expressions on the cirlce of that had slowly forms around us.
Finally I look over at her my best friend since birth who is now crying and pleading to me to save her. Me hilarious now I really am god oh how we have longes to eradicate this corruption. The stain of color in our story of black and white. She had been pinned down by the others who held her arms and legs. With the dexterity of a doctor the blank faces of my camrades stoic as a mask sliced through her soft skin carving it off bit by bit. They become more frantic and I can't help but join in the bloodfrenzy as we fley and insert hooks deep in the remaining flesh. Her bleeding body is dragged through the store to hang by the others of her kind. The ones who don't conform and except our gracious gift. The few who despite our efforts to assimalate into the grand plan are resistant. They eventually become aware of our exaistance in this plain by then its to late and we need to step in and do more than whisper sweet soothing melodies.
So the next time you feel as though you are stepping out of line keep our song in the back of your mind. For are machine will grind and crush despite your hopes and dreams.
