A lanky, full-breasted woman clothed in finely woven textures stands looking over the sea from the cliffed heights of a continental plate, eroding. Her curly dark tresses waver, her pensive black eyes portend, her porcelain skin glows—a tower of boldness, charm, and intellectual prowess. She lifts up her delicate, well-trained hand and releases the long pink ribbon–satin, telling, and perfect–into the breeze. The seagulls dodge forward but realize it is nothing to keep.
A man in a sleek, grey suit with a pink tie, sunglasses, and brassy hair approaches the woman and taps her on the shoulder. She continues to watch the waves below ripple across the sea, gaining momentum as they crash into the jutting rocks. She takes a deep salty breath, tastes it on her tongue and begins to wonder what it feels like to drown.
“Miss Ira. We would like to know what happened.”
“Sure.”
“You passed the interview.”
“I know.”
“You passed because you had history of supporting our cause. You divested yourself of your family cycle.”
“Mmmmhm.”
“You signed the contract. You promised you would do this better than they did.”
“Yep.”
“We told those people you would be in charge and would take care of them.”
“I know.”
“You disseminated the information.”
“I did.”
“We even reinforced you after that little incident so that they would continue to trust you.”
“Thanks.”
“We even gave you more so that you could increase your numbers and propriety.”
“Thank you.”
“We put you in charge of all the resources.”
“Yep.”
“Your ability was proving to be spectacular.”
“Shining.”
“And then you stopped feeding them. Is that right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Even though these people said they needed you.”
“Yep…needed.”
“You fed them for years, then you stopped.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You made sure they were trapped, made sure to help them think they had to depend on you.”
“Sure.”
“It was your responsibility. You were the responsible person.”
“I know.”
“Do you think you went according to the plan we had made for you?”
“Plan.”
“Do you remember the plan we talked about in the beginning, before we started?”
“Plan, our fault.”
“Did you just say that out loud?”
“I think so.”
“Do you remember what you are supposed to voice out loud?”
“Out-loud-their-fault.”
“Do you realize that you starved those people to death?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“I mean, did I.”
“Those people starved to death.”
“I’m tired, can I quit?”
“Miss Ira. We bought them for you because you thought it sounded like just fun to take care of them. We told you that you were a good person, taking care of all those people. We even gave you awards and put out flyers and ads about your good deeds—the less you gave, the more we made–and sent in medicine to alleviate the pain…despite that incident…you were very generous.”
“Indeed.”
“Then you got bored or maybe tired. By that time you realized that they didn’t know how to take care of themselves, which wasn’t your fault. It was their fault for believing you would always be there. They didn’t rebel, which some people hoped. They didn’t even bother to try for themselves, which worried others. They didn’t figure it out until they were already starving, so by the time any of the stronger ones wanted to say something about it, they couldn’t. So, why did you get mad at them?”
“I wondered why they trusted me so much…too much. Didn’t they know that I would want to do other things, that feeding them would become boring to me? Why didn’t they know?”
“You know that getting mad at them was not part of the contract. You passed the psychological evaluation and proved to be able to cope with your high position. You smiled frequently and said you were happy. We are trying to understand what happened.”
“Then one by one they began to die. They stopped reproducing, they stopped walking, they stopped seeing, they stopped breathing. Why were they so dependent on me? All I did was sign a piece of paper.”
“You did what you were supposed to do.”
“Didn’t they know that I would get tired of feeding them? I’m not their mother. Did you know?”
“We thank you for your generosity in getting rid…taking care of the problem but since you became mad at them and refused to remain calm toward us from the beginning of the plan to the end, I am afraid…” He looks at her well-kept body. He smiles, his small eyes disappearing into the folds of his muscular cheeks. “We have something else for you to do.”
She wishes she would try to pull away from his type, but she doesn’t know how.
Copyright 2013
Let me know what you think since I know that it might be taken the wrong way…
lamehousewife
Chilling !!!
It was supposed to be, so I guess that’s good. Thanks for reading it, dgcree! I appreciate it. God bless!
very good!!!!
Thank you Terry for your support! God bless!