| It has been so boring out here. Not too much to do around here except stare off into space and pretend to be guarding this piece of dirt they call OP3-1. So I wrote this story to pass the time. This story was written about a sack. We had a guy burning trash that caught his face on fire that many believe in a act of desperation was his only thought of getting home. Any ways we hope he is fine.
The Sack
It was clear there would be no escape. Any one traveling this road has seen it thousands of times. Caught between life and death, the trash were doomed to drift till there would be no more. The people of this hored land gave up years ago trying to keep it beautiful and now they just let the trash drift to what ever place the wind took it. That's what he was now, trash. Just meaningless trash. He had aspired to be at least Hard Rock Cafe bag a merabilia of some sort, maybe a sack designed to carry home the purchases of something really special, and because of his special cargo, he would be spared and tacked to the wall of some cool place and looked at from time to time with some vague memory of a time when he had purpose. There was no fooling himself now though. He knew it the day they painted Hodgie's Mart to his face. There was only one way it would end up. Used as a urine bomb he burst open the day he was tossed from the disgusting place he had found him self in, cruising the Sinai highways. Reduced to rags, no hope in sight. He could not accept this, he must not. What else was there. It was plain, out in the open, and no matter how it turned out, it would not be anything but utter torment for him. No other choice could be made.
He had been floating out there for days. He needed release, and there was only one way for him to find it. Carefully, drifting back and forth, selecting his prey he would make his move soon. He had to make it look like an accident. Several near misses, to develop the look of something drifting on the wind. No one could find out. He had to make it look like natural causes, other wise he would never see the place set aside for those that had truly suffered in this life. It was his only hope now, and he decided that he would risk the chance of being found out and set to drift for all eternity. That is what would happen, if he was discovered he ended his own life. Not much longer now and he would have his release. He saw the truck coming with out a clue. He would be soon in the place where no more suffering would plague him. No flies, no ants to chew slowly at him as he lay there helpless with out dignity or solace. He would be whole again and he would escape this retched life. Not much longer. The truck seemed to pick up speed as he sat posed on the side of the high way. Nothing would hinder his flight to freedom this time. This time? What was he saying? No he must stay focused! Almost here. He could feel the release. 50 yards, 30, he had to fight off this strange doubt that clung to him. How many times had he done this? Snap out of it! you got to get focused. Yes, a little lift to set the hook. He was airborne. He was soaring with dignity again; no way he would miss it now. He waited his whole life for this, a desperate jolt to freedom. 10 yards. Already hovering now, at breakneck speed the truck would finish it now. He would soon be home. A sudden gust of air.... What was this! Must push back! He had to push back! What? NO! WHHHYYYY! The sack was pushed to the side, and with skillful hands, the trucker reached out and caught him. The driver, was late and could not stop. He had precious cargo that would need to be there in time for the shop to open. They had been back order, and now the sacks, were ready for the grand opening. This was just the break the driver had needed. With a little tape he would have his relief. Repaired for use, the sack, was cast out the window again only to get caught on some wire in the middle of no where. Some stupid fence just there, with no real reason for being in the middle of the desert. Dripping with urine, alone again, with no possible way to get lose, he was cursed to rot away on the wire. The barbs had cut deep into him, sinking deep into his flesh, no way he could free him self, they were in his soul. Silence.... Wind..... Days..... Weeks.....
He heard the distant barking of orders. "Get that off the fence! Tear it lose the commander is on his way out here! Square this place away! We don't want to give him anything to complain about."
Not caring anymore, he just hung without effort as the soldiers tore him loose. He was caried with many others and put into a sack. He heard the words "Don't fear. It will all be over soon." He thought to himself, when, if you only knew how he had tried but he was still here and there was still the pain and anguish. Apathetic and with out hope, he just sat there, without pain or feeling. He could not feel the heat, as his feet and hands began to burn, he lost his sense of touch long ago, he would not feel pain any more. Before he drifted off to eternity he heard the sound of the soldier screaming in agony with his face was on fire. Why didn't I think of that? I could have burned the Hodgie's Mart off my face along time ago then all this could have been avoided. all he has to do now is let the tuck end the suffering..... Because everyone knows; humans don't float along in life with out a sense of purpose.
THE END |
All the same I can't wait to get back home and see the kids and my wife. If I could only find that gizmo that makes the lights comeon that makes the time portal configure the do hiky thingamobub. Alive and well, Pablo:_ 