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There.



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I take one or two of these a day, I forget, but they help me level. They help me focus, help me stay on the level and completely there. I get in the zone and then never leave it, I stay there, and I get it all done, all of it, everything. A yellow one helps me in the morning and half a blue one in the afternoon, though I sometimes take a whole one, okay I usually take a whole one, but I'm there, always there -- you can't argue the results.

I eat when there's time, I mean when it's time. It's not right now and the sun isn't where it needs to be yet. When it hides halfway behind that ridge I know its time to eat my food capsule, well, that and the siren in threes. The siren sounding three times reminds me while I'm there that I need to eat my food capsule and I never want, it's just always there, ready for me to consume while I'm there.

I sit in this room a lot just there, in it, completely in it. I can hear my cell mates breath, I can hear when they shift over in their bed and a loud sounding creak becomes absorbed like an echo in the room, and their breathing. A minor annoyance, but I always get things done, I'm always there and ready for the next task.

I sometimes listen to the air and it becomes so distinct I sometimes believe I can see it, pushing the dirt outside my window toward a specific direction, outward toward somewhere, anywhere but not here. Never here, but I'm always there, always here.




This Piece is based on the Prompt: An atypical dystopia


  13-Nov-2008 5:08pm created by ms

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bill
posted 14-Nov-2008 7:28am

I like the corrective style of the narration, effectively imparting a neurotic state of mind. Also, the progression of description that gets worse and worse (pills, sirens, cell, isolation, the edge of sanity).
chad
posted 17-Nov-2008 6:54pm

What I was questioning while reading it is the narrator a convict or is that just what life is there?




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