The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!
Just Sit Still and Be Quiet
by Melissa R. Mendelson
I’m tired of just sitting still and being quiet, but my body refused to move, my head held straight. I stared at my last memory, peering over at my neighbor’s flat with a bicycle resting outside with a yellow bag on it. What was in that bag? Were they delivering newspapers like in the old days, but there were no newspapers. And no one was allowed to ride anything including bikes, so why was it just lying there?
“I want to ride the bike.”
My voice did not sound like it came from me, but when was the last time that I spoke? Sure, my parents and I occupied the same space, but the conversations were minimal. There was no reason to speak. We just smiled and nodded and turned our attention to the viewing screen, and maybe I didn’t want to watch what was shown. But it was decided that I watch it or I watch nothing.
“I want to ride the bike.”
We were allowed fifteen minutes each day to stand outside, unless it rained, and lately, it seemed to rain a lot. But not yesterday. I missed being outside, standing under the sun, and watching its light fall across my hand, such a strange sensation. That’s when I decided to step away from my front door, and at first, I was stopped. But when they weren’t looking, I moved quickly, hiding among the bushes and spying on my neighbors. The people returned inside, and when they did, I saw the bicycle with the strange, yellow bag on it.
“I want to ride the bike.”
Closing my eyes, I could picture myself riding that bike down the street, past the narrow homes and heading into somewhere. Instead, I was grabbed back and pushed inside, forced on the couch to sit, to always sit, and it was mealtime. It was decided that beef and vegetables would be served, and if not desired, then a piece of bread and water. Then, bed.
“I want…”
I want to go home. I didn’t want to sit here anymore and be quiet. I wanted to see my parents again. I wanted to stand outside and have the sun shine its warmth over me. I wanted to look at my neighbors and feel some semblance of a connection. I want… I still wanted to ride the bike, but it wasn’t going to happen. Maybe, it was left there out of trickery to see which one would desire it, and I was the idiot that did.
“I…”
The I hovered in the air. Such a strange sound that carried it. I. I was what they wanted me to be, and they did not want me to ride the bike. They did not want me to think about riding it. They did not want me to even picture it inside my head. What was I looking at again? Oh, yes, that memory.
“Home,” I said. They liked one words. If you said a whole sentence or two, they would pinch your tongue, a reminder to speak only one word, or if you had to, two words. “Please,” I said. “Home.”
The lights snapped on, and I flinched at their brightness. The door screeched open, and their footsteps dragged across the floor. Their fingers were always cold, no warmth like with the sunlight, and they lifted me out of the chair as if I were nothing but a doll. And my binds were cut. Their faces loomed close to mine, eyes illuminated blue, and jaws dropped into grins.
Do robots ever smile?
.
Fiction © Copyright Melissa R. Mendelson
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com.
About Author Melissa R. Mendelson:
Melissa R. Mendelson is the author of the Sci-Fi Novella, Waken, and the poetry collection, This Will Remain With Us. She also has two self-published short story collections, Better Off Here and Stories Written Along COVID Walls. All the books can be found on Amazon/Amazon Kindle.
If you’d like to learn more about Melissa, you can visit her accounts here: https://linktr.ee/melissarmendelson
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