ficlets100 - number seven.

[rawri]

001.	Guilt	002.	New	003.	Solitude	004.	Content	005.	Tale
006.	Distort	007.	Luxury	008.	Listen	009.	Party	010.	Scent
011.	Storm	012.	Lessons	013.	Apology	014.	Relief	015.	Breeze
016.	Fading	017.	Passion	018.	Stay	019.	Rain	020.	Within
021.	Dread	022.	Revenge	023.	Time	024.	Perfect	025.	Eyes
026.	Bloom	027.	Beginning	028.	Bath	029.	Object	030.	Lost
031.	Pride	032.	Death	033.	Dance	034.	Remember	035.	Savage
036.	Late	037.	Crossroads	038.	Change	039.	Hope	040.	Dawn
041.	Hero	042.	Annoy	043.	Trouble	044.	Imagine	045.	Believe
046.	Words	047.	Home	048.	Understand	049.	Cage	050.	Animal
051.	Woods	052.	Fun	053.	Dare	054.	Spell	055.	Pray
056.	Warmth	057.	Mess	058.	Leap	059.	Attention	060.	Shopping
061.	Dessert	062.	Paper-cut	063.	Compromise	064.	Mouth	065.	Gone
066.	Intuition	067.	Fairies	068.	Gift	069.	Priceless	070.	Jewel
071.	Grin	072.	Quake	073.	Blush	074.	System	075.	Pressure
076.	Crash	077.	Closer	078.	Break	079.	Habit	080.	Safe
081.	Confusion	082.	Someday	083.	Instigate	084.	Goodnight	085.	Paint
086.	Always	087.	Guide	088.	Embrace	089.	Fall	090.	Help
091.	Different	092.	Anticipation	093.	Real	094.	Enough	095.	Again
096.	Glorify.	097.	Lack thereof.	098.	Fix.	099.	Smile.	100.	A little.

Comments

toward the terra -> ⌈49.⌋ Cage.

[rawri.livejournal.com]

“Eh? Jomy? What is it, what is it?”

“It’s the newest exhibit at Dreamworld. They’re supposed to be monsters.”

“We’ve got to check it out!”

“I don’t know, Sam. Isn’t Dreamworld kind of a kid thing…?”

“Oh, c’mon. We’ve got a day to do whatever we want. Let’s spend it. You’ve still got those free tickets, right?”

And so here they were. Clutching the bars (bars that reminded him of those old, old movies, vertical ones that you’d see in an ancient jail, and maybe it was fitting), they both had their faces pressed up close – it wasn’t hard to see, because the new exhibit was an amazingly dark room with an amazingly bright spotlight on the ‘monsters.’ Sam was the first to pull back, head tilted to the side and a hand scratching the back of his neck, almost sheepishly. “For a monster, it sure is boring.”

A lot of other people seemed to agree, too, because right after they’d glanced in, they glanced away, ushering their children just as quickly (though the kids didn’t seem to want to move as fast) to get out of the room and check out the next cage, a rare – and sickeningly cuddly – pand.

“… Yeah. Boring.”

Jomy rocked back on his heels while still gripping the bars, eyebrows drawing together some. Something was—

“Jomy, let’s go. Even if it’s boring, it’s creeping me out.” His green eyes jerked over to where Sam’s back was retreating out of the room, and he looked back into the cell (that was the only label that came to mind) one last time – the thing’s head was still pointed toward the floor, and all he could see was white hair (fur?) and white skin, so he reluctantly let go of the bars and started away, too.

“How can they do this?!”

A woman’s yell made him stop, made even Sam pause mid-reach for the button that would’ve opened the door to the next exhibit. They both looked over at her—a short lady, hands balled at her sides, someone old enough to be in their middle age. She was gesturing widely, and her husband made futile efforts to get her to be quiet.

“No, no, Harold, I won’t be silent- look at him! How is this a monster? He looks normal! No, he looks worse than normal—he looks like death warmed over! Are those chains? The children shouldn’t see things like this! It isn’t right! It isn’t right! It isn’t—“

No one made a sound as the dark, dark room lit up with another spotlight, a paralyzer hitting the woman right in the back – she fell, and her husband stepped away. Sam pulled on his arm, not even daring to whisper out a let’s go, but he had to watch as the Patrol hoisted the limp body up and walked away. Clean, cut, simple. People around them didn’t mention it- they filed out, as new ones came in, and Jomy didn’t even manage to see what the husband did.

Sam went on without him, once he realized Jomy wouldn’t budge (“Fine, fine, but meet me in two hours. I want to at least eat lunch with ya. -- Pand, here I come!”), and his watch told him he only had ten minutes before he had to start running for the food plaza.

He almost wanted to rattle on the bars he’d been holding onto, but three Patrols had already asked him if he was alright, if he was waiting for someone, if there was something wrong – the unspoken will you leave yet hanging in the air. He could feel it, for the first time; the weight of being watched, of actually having to be quiet, or else he’d give them reason to throw him out. The only reason he wanted to rattle the bars was because the monster hadn’t moved. The thing hadn’t even looked up! He would've call fake if the slow rise and fall of a bumpy, bony chest didn't give it away, the white-knuckled grip on white arms occasionally getting even whiter, bent back and curled into itself (white, white, white self).

It really did look normal. Oddly colored, but normal.

Boring.

His watch blinked five minutes after you should have left at him, he sighted a Patrol standing in the corner watching him, and he let go of the bars with a rather explosive sigh. “Fine,” he said to nothing in particular, to the weight and gaze on his shoulders, “You’re just a monster in a cage, anyway.”

And he left the cage under the weight of being watched, of red eyes on his back.