Her Chicken Scratch / Short Stories

Wake them Up

“You can touch them if you want.” The young man said. Shifting his rifle to his left side. He handled it as if it was no more than a piece of inexpensive jewelry. “They won’t move to attack you, though the odd one does cry out.”

I looked up at him and for the first time I wondered what I was doing here and how I even got here – being they, I certainly wouldn’t have picked myself first for the job. I don’t have a science education; I’m neither a mathematician nor a medical doctor. I’m just an old medium that should have said no to the job. Regardless of my reputation for never saying no to a job, poltergeist extermination included.

“So how does this work, do you set up candles or something? Say a prayer? Need human sacrifice? Because I’ve been given orders to accept all activities and needs such of your own. Though personally…” He paused. “If it’s human sacrifice can I leave the room?”

I laughed. The young man tried not to make eye contact with me. “Do you believe in what I do?” I asked him.

“Sort of.” He said and went on to tell me about his sisters visits to a medium in quest of her perfect man.

I snorted. “Did it work?”

“Mostly.” He replied, standing straighter.

I turned from him and looked at the people standing in front of me. At a quick glance you would only see the first five but as you let your eyes wander down the row you would see hundreds. All lined up with unresponsive eyes. They were all connected to a blue liquid that pulsed through a tube until it reached its destination. Their heart.

“Love potion.” I whispered, recognizing the colour. “How is this attempt going? Has anyone a woke?” I asked, as I stepped close to the female in front of me. Her jaw hung low, her dark circles matched the night sky and her eyes rested open with tears welling in the corner. “These people are sad. Is your potion working?” I asked him, trying not to scrunch up my face.

“No Miss. The medicine has no effect. Boss says if we can determine that they are not viral, we’ll cut them down.”

“Cut them down?” I shouted. “These people are still living! Their trapped in their own creations of a jail cell, is all. And the good thing about that means there’s always a key.”

“I don’t follow.” He said.

“They are sad. Their like… a tape that’s stuck. Stuck on a terrible moment in time.”

“Our technology did confirm that they are emotional.”

I nodded and let a tear slip from my brown eyes. Knowing very well that it’ll streak my foundation and melt my mascara. “Life kicks us all down at some point, it’s just having strength. We can save them.”

“Strength. That is something I don’t have.” The young man mumbled and he froze into place, surprised with what he just admitted to me.

I leaned over to him and patted him on the shoulder. “You’re still fighting. We won’t let it get that far.” I smiled, that curved my cracked lips upwards.

Written by Alecia Writes 

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