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It Could Be Worse.
Topic Started: 18 Nov 2009, 01:40 PM (314 Views)
cheesebug
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Class assignment, short story. Criticism wanted, but not too harsh :thumbs: :D
It Could Be Worse
The Diary Of A Captive Man

October 5th, 3210
Dear Diary,
My hiding place has been discovered. I always knew I was different, so staying in hiding would not only save me of humiliation but also of publicity. I didn’t want to be known as the weirdo.
I thought I would be safe in the woods. I thought that, stuffed in a burrow, nobody would find me. Nobody would hurt me........nobody would see my face. But they did find me, they came with their ropes and tied me down like I was some sort of animal, some sort of beast, and carried me off. My words on this page are swimming in my tears as I ride under a black blanket in the back of a car. They think I’m too stupid and savage to know where I’m going. I know where I’m going. I’m going to be put in a file and hidden away forever in some doctor’s drawer....I will forever be a captive man.

October 8th, 3210
Dear Diary,
I still haven’t eaten since my arrival. My enclosure is a white room that smells like alcohol swabs and applesauce. They put me in a tight jacket and tied me to the bed I rest in now. They gave me shots and now I can’t think or speak correctly. My dreams are like picture books, just images that tell the story of my life....blank pages.

October 9th, 3210
Dear Diary,
Today a nurse came in and took my blood with a needle. People are so cruel if they don’t even ask before they take a part of someone’s body. There where photographers with cameras that took my picture and those without cameras drew me. I didn’t have a blanket to hide under. My nights are cold. There are machines that feed me my dinner and machines that watch me when I sleep and machines that monitor the slow, warm beating of my heart. The nurses are scared of me. I try to speak to them but they don’t answer me, instead they look at me with dark eyes that are filled with fear. I try to tell them I won’t hurt them, but my voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard, or a train hitting a cat and the animal scraping the tracks of it’s murderer. My own voice makes me want to vomit, but I have nothing to throw up. The machines suck me dry and my life is like a movie, the slow kind that bores you the first minute.




October 11th, 3210
Dear Diary,
If I die I have nothing to give to anyone. Today I sneezed and choked on the blood that came up with it. That’s a day in the life.



October 13th, 3210
Dear Diary,
I am filled with hate. I hate the doctors who scrape my skin and the skittish nurses and the photo-men from the newspaper and my small white room that looks out onto the dry, ugly land. To cheer myself up I try to draw what I see outside, but I end up with a white clean page. If I escaped, I would have nowhere to escape to.

October 16th, 3210
Dear Diary,
Today I saw myself in the reflective water in my paper cup that I had been given. I did not like what I saw, so I threw the cup across the room. It hit a photo-man that had just came in and ruined his camera device. I should try this more often.

October 17th, 3210
Dear Diary,
It turns out that cameras are expensive. The research hospital lab is unable to pay back the man for the camera by themselves, so I am on punishment. They took the money out of the cash stored to buy my liquid food. Today I go hungry.

October 23rd, 3210
Dear Diary,
After 6 days without my food machine I don’t even dream.

October 25th, 3210
Dear Diary,
The have restored my food supply. I do not get the same pleasure of finally being fed from tubes as I would get from eating something from my own hands, but it was much better than starving. I heard the doctors whispering on how they can’t afford to feed me forever and have to just get it done soon.
Get what done?



October 26th, 3210
Dear Diary,
I miss my little nook in the forest. It was warmer and I felt safer, even though I was always liable to be killed at any second by poachers and bears. At least I knew that a poacher’s bullet and a bear’s bite would kill me quickly. I don’t know what they’re going to do to me here.
A church bell rings every hour, or maybe it’s just my imagination. Whichever, I want to be out there with it.

October 30th, 3210
Dear Diary,
They are plotting to kill me. They’re going to open me up and jumble around inside me and place my organs out on display. Why do they want to keep me here? I’m not special.
I’m just different.

November 2nd, 3210
Dear Diary,
What is one life to the average man? They think they are so special, that just one person dying doesn’t matter. It’s just one life. But if a person gives them something, they’ll die for that person. We humans are so greedy.

November 3rd, 3210
Dear Diary,
I keep feeling cool breezes, them blowing two or three strands of hair from my face before chilling my skin. Where are they coming from? I must investigate......

November 5th, 3210
Dear Diary,
Aha! My studies have proved useful. There are a few large cracks in the wall that the wind blows through. Upon prodding around near the cracks, I found that the wall is rather crumbly and loose. I think that if I use my strength, I can push my fist through the wall. I don’t think I’ll try it yet, I must be cautious of the employees.......

November 8th, 3210
Dear Diary,
Today people came and just watched me. I didn’t even know if they were real, but all I knew was that they tended to not have as many cameras as the quick sneaky news paper men. That doesn’t mean I enjoy their company more.
There is a little girl who keeps coming very day to watch me. I believe she is trying to draw me at home. She stayed longer than usual today, and I didn’t mind.
November 9th, 3210
Dear Diary,
The girl came again today. She came up to where I was practically caged and spoke to me. She said her name was Anna and that I shouldn’t be scared, she’d be my friend. I don’t know if I smiled or not, but all I remember is her telling me that she would see me later, and me doubting I would live that long.

November 11th, 3210
Dear Diary,
My “friend” Anna came and taught me a game. You make a grid and put letters in each spot, taking turns, until you get a line of the same letter. I am still very confused by this. The photographers are thinning.........

November 12th, 3210
Dear Diary,
I have been moved to a bright bustling laboratory and at the moment I am locked up like a test rat. I will be moved back to my room soon, the doctors told me. They scraped my skin, took pictures, drew blood, captured my saliva, and gave me a large shot. I am beginning to feel sleepy........

November 18th, 3210
Dear Diary,
I woke in my room and suddenly knew something was wrong. Anna was shaking me and pointing at my arm. I didn’t want to look, but I did. My hand was missing and my wrist was wrapped in cloth. Anna was asking where I had been the last few days. I told her I didn’t know. She left a cold metal spoon as a present for me as she walked out.

November 20th, 3210
Dear Diary,
Anna didn’t come yesterday or today. I am still waiting her arrival.

November 23rd, 3210
Dear Diary,
I was finally given real food! It was stale bread and tasteless meat stew, but my tongue greeted it like how I would greet a long lost friend.

November 28th, 3210
Dear Diary,
After ten days it would be stupid to keep waiting for Anna. I keep her gift under my pillow, and I have finally realized what it is for.



December 8th, 3210
Dear Diary,
I now have daily trips to the laboratory. Today they put me through a machine that flashed lights and stung my eyes. How will I know what they are going to do to me tomorrow?

December 9th, 3210
Dear Diary,
I finally began scraping at the wall in my room with the spoon from Anna. The old wall crumbled away quite easily. By noon I shall have a hole big enough for me to belly crawl through, possibly. Or I could get caught......

December 10th, 3210
Dear Diary,
My digging was interrupted by my daily lab visit yesterday, but now I have finished! it is out of sight from the nurses, being behind my bed, so tonight there’s a good chance I can creep out......and get out of this place forever.

December ?, 3210
Dear Diary,
I can barely see the page I write on. The air is freezing around me, being Winter. I made it outside! I loitered for a minute near the outside wall, but a siren sounded and made me run. They’re after me right now, I am currently in a potato crate. I can hear their dogs, sniffing around, and I know they fill find me if I don’t run by morning.
When I ran, I dodged big piles of stone, once buildings, and sprinted to the large green pile of stone, said to be once a sttue of some sort. I can clearly see the Dry Desert stretched in front of me. My mother told me there ued to be a form of salty liquid here, but I doubted that was true.
I can hear someone coming. I have goosebumps on my arms. Nobody knows I am here, hopefully they can’t hear my breath, my heartbeat. But, the sound of footsteps is currently getting louder. I have to g

http://masochistic-goddess.tumblr.com/poetry
"You will hear thunder and remember me,
and think: she wanted storms."
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Luemas
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Interesting..
He's obviously a mental patient, but I'm not sure why there would be photographers. Unless he's really important.
Or had smallpox or somethign.
That would explain the lab tests.
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I think I'm Crazzzy. I think your crazy. I think your crazzzy... probably.
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cheesebug
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hes in the future......like when they find a weird species, they study it, take pics, you know. i give hints about that, i think.....;( maybe not enough!:)
http://masochistic-goddess.tumblr.com/poetry
"You will hear thunder and remember me,
and think: she wanted storms."
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