Curse of time
Submission for Time Capsule Haiku
For time is man-made,
Yet we live as its victims,
Heart ticking away.
About the Creator
Alex Paquette-Larher
I've been a writer for as long as I remember, words are my solace.
Keep reading
More stories from Alex Paquette-Larher and writers in Poets and other communities.
Subject 0013
I was never supposed to be able to speak. When the scientists did their experiments on me, the goal was never for me to have a voice. I don't quite remember what their goal was, to be fair. It's quite foggy. All I remember is pain, and fear, and needles. Then, there was a clarity, as if I experienced the world for the first time. I could understand the people who had tortured me for years. Or was it months? I don't understand the concept of time very well. I don't understand a lot of concepts. I may have been given a voice, but I am still a mouse. A small, inconsequential mouse. At least, that's what people think when they look at me. They see a furry little thing and they call me adorable and cute, not knowing that if they bring me close enough to their faces, I'll gladly scratch their eyes out. It's what I did to some of the researchers. Unfortunately, humans are quick to learn their lessons. After the third blinding incident that occurred while they were trying to understand how on Earth I could be cursing them out, they stopped handling me without protection gear. They said I was rabid and dangerous. It still makes me laugh. Am I really the monster, the mouse that speaks? Or are you? Humans that destroy each other and everything around them. I don't remember my life before being behind bars. Who knows, maybe I was born in a laboratory. But I certainly didn't intend to die in there. So I left. Some absolute imbecile left me a short window of time where my door was open and, well, I am not stupid. Not anymore. I took my chance and ran out. I didn't try to free the others. We are not the same anymore. I am the better, improved version of them. If they want to be saved, they'll have to do it themselves. The first time I went outside was quite scary. But more than anything, it was annoying. How do you bear the smells, the noises? I nearly went made in matter of minutes. But I was not about to die after all of this. I want to live. So, I ran, and ran. Until there were no more horrible fumes and honks. Until peace was the only thing I could hear, green the only color I could see, air the only thing I could breath. Then, I found a small village because I needed food. I explored the buildings until I found an old house with empty walls. It was heated enough and people would only walk through it, never stay for more than a few hours. I listened to them talk, and they said the place is haunted, whatever that means. But I understood after I regrettable incident involving a dirty rat that left me cursing the world that if humans heard me speak from the walls, they would run, often without their food, which meant a feast for me. And it is also quite amusing to see them loose their poor little minds. Some where brave (or foolhardy) enough to not get scared when they heard my voice, but inevitably, I'd only have to climb on them while they slept, scratch them until blood was drawn and they would wake up in panic, then run back to my walls, singing my little lullaby.
By Alex Paquette-Larher3 years ago in Horror
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.