Welcome, this is my one page fiction blog. Basically, I'm going to write one page stories or so, everyday, to keep my creative juices flowing. So I hope you enjoy them. Some will be better than others.
Monday, 1 April 2013
Walk the Walk.
Complicated things usually are complex, that being said, it's when things are simple, that the complexities can take you by surprise.
That's what happened to her, she was taken by surprise.
No one had told her that she would actually have to do this kind of work at her job. It was implied in the position, sure, but no one had told her. And after ten years of working there, she had never been forced to perform this act. Yet now, here she was. About to perform it.
Her title at her current employ, was Killer.
She had been working for the company for ten years, and never thought to ask why. Why? Why, was her title Killer? Why, on each pay stub statement, was that listed as her actual title? Not once, in ten years had she killed anything.
After today, she supposed, it would be once in eleven. She also came to the conclusion that you only need to kill once to be a killer. In that sense then, she'd been a killer her own life. Some people were afraid of spiders. She was one of them, which is why she gladly killed any spider when she got the chance.
The subject in front of her was not a spider.
The company was a technology company, that did some stuff with biology? Or was it chemistry? She didn't know, she was just a middle-man. Between labs, she would take whatever container they brought her from one place, and bring it to the chute. The chute would take it to wherever. She didn't know, she never asked. She would then file a form, by checking off all of the boxes, signing it with the date and time. The boxes on the sheet(which she had not read in over five years), said that she was sure that everything inside her container was dead. She would get one container a day, and then go home.
Today she was given a large container, and the thing inside it was not dead.
She looked at it's eyes and quivered, doubting herself. For ten years she had been paid to be a killer that never had to kill. Talking a talk, she supposed, without walking the walk.
The eyes could see her through the container. The eyes were huge, and pleading. She had to make a decision, but she knew that there was difference between spiders and this. She knew that there was a difference when you knew that it was killing, and not just getting rid of a pest.
The eyes pleaded. The eyes begged. They were crying. She was crying.
Now, she thought, I have to walk the walk.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment