fiction for the short & weird contest
Between Fear and Suffering, There Is No Real Choice
I could warn you but it would not be a good thing for you to know
Every minute of every day I try not to notice the machine. I don’t look at it and do everything possible to never hear it. I certainly never mention it. In fact, I do everything I can to not even think about it, though to be honest, the machine seems to be ever crouching in every shadow.
Sometimes I’ll hum or whistle “Puff the Magic Dragon” while trying not draw attention to myself. God, how would I ever explain it? Would I let them think about me as some kind of a strangling? Or would I explain that a dragon is kind of like a basilisk singing is my way to break a thought cycle, sending a lullaby to quiet the poised threats of revenge.
I could tell them I do not want to think about the basilisk and for god’s sake, neither do they. But I sing so as to avoid drawing suspicion.
Without a doubt, I envy their naivety. They think I’m strange because they just don’t realize what is at stake for all our futures. Their being in the know would not help me. I wish I didn’t know. I wish I could forget. I wish there was a way, but there isn’t.
