Escapade x 2

1. Lining up, everyone trapped in a glass dome. Desolate, despairing wasteland lay outside and beyond our clean air and clean water, but it was better than our fate. Never-ending stream of bloodied foreheads as people struggled to break out during our breaks; with every passing moment the clock ticked and we grew closer to our imminent fates.

It’s time. We’re lead in two lines, winding paths and ramps to a separate room, long walks up and out the grey holding areas as we trudge to the Factory. Finally,a bird’s eye view of the Factory and the people who reached there before us. Little segments, an orderly room, straight rows and columns. A mini platform at the front of each segment, rows of seats before it. That’s when I heard the screaming and shouting.

Whip sounds hitting flesh; you could hear the skin tearing, the blood falling, the pain riveting through the bodies. No longer people but mindless machines coated in spilling veins and arteries.

“You have to break the chairs fast in order to generate energy. They whip you if you don’t keep increasing your speed. When you die, you get replaced.”

All around, piles of bodies were gathering by the minute. 

I’m waiting to be sent to my segment. Everyone’s stony-eyed, rigid and flexing their balled-up fists, but still the tears sear and scar cheeks. Behind, an aunt and uncle laugh at the spectacle, full-bellied laughter, joy radiating through their teeth.

“You don’t have to go through this if you have a niece or nephew.”


“You’re free.”

I walk.

2. Post-apocalyptic, everyone is living in tribes in hills and rainforests. My tribe is filled with little children, and the lady comes. She comes with a basket of vegetables on her back. Scowl on her face, she take out one bunch of lettuce, lays it down on our doorstep, and takes off. I’d just come back from sneaking into our enemy’s tribe, running like mad as they gave chase, holding on tightly to her hand as we escaped their grasps.

That’s too little. How can we feed everyone.

Mama, why did she give us food?

She had some extra. 

Why don’t we have any?

Each family is designated a whole basket of fruits and vegetables, but the collection point is too far, it’s too dangerous for me to go when all the children are here.

Let me go.


Please mama, please.

Please take care.

I took off.

I’m there at this huge arena, everyone lining up on either side. Everyone who first reaches lines up on the left. When you reach the front, there’s a safe passage to the actual food line on the right. The bitch is there with her bitchy best friend; they taunt and make fun of me and her. 

Let’s just do it. We can do it. Trust me.

Taking her hand, we dash across, avoiding the falling shards of glass from the ceiling above, braking and falling apart from the earthquakes that hit the building periodically. So many close calls, but we end up safe and sound.

There we meet two fine gentlemen who let us cut their queue. Who take us into their car and we drive off after collection. They’re 12 and 13. I’m 20 sweetheart, I’m sorry. 

Would you like to take over and drive?


It’s an automatic. I jerk and halt uncomfortably, I’ve only driven a buggy in my life and it was horrible. However will I navigate a manual MPV.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: