Commute

Commute

Sol rises. A new day begins with its promise of misery and thankless toil. Another day of frustrations and unfulfilled promises. I dread the slow death my soul will die today. I may look alive and kicking but inside, I taste the venom called life drop by every bitter drop.

I splash some water over me and change my skin. Not that it shall do anything for me. Changing my skin is just another clause of my contract of damnation. Just an empty gesture to the sheep. Sheep may pretend to enjoy life but I don’t. It’s no fun living a lie forever. This existence seemed fun for a while but now, it’s just a long string of Sol and Luna. Have I ever told you how much I despise sheep? Hate is good. It keeps you focused on important things in life; the object of your hate. You devote your entire being to one single all consuming purpose. Hate becomes a benevolent god, to be appeased by regular sacrifices of your enemies.

After some meager bits of day old flesh and a cup of stale blood I go out to wait for the old man and his wagon. I enjoy my wait for the ride in the old man’s wagon. This is a time to catch up with the world…. Sheep, the lost and the damned. Everyone is hurrying to get to their place of torture. I see sheep everywhere. You know what I hate more than a sheep? That yapping lamb in tow. That bit of talking flesh. NO! Its not talking, it just makes that painful clacking noise. The sheep seemed to enjoy however, and make their own bleating and clacking sound. This is not the time for the dark ones. Those like me, condemned to labor in the horrors of light are further tortured by this change of skin. It’s uncomfortable to say the least.

The old man arrives with his silent brown wagon. The old man is a lost one, chained to his wagon and sentenced to drive it between two points on a circle. Sadly, this journey in circles, gives him an illusion of progress that gives him a measure of sanity. He greets me with a toothless smile and a disgusting “top of the morning to you!” I mumble something and we are off to the abode of Zombie Scribe.

She used to be one of us but the witch that rules our labors sucked life and joy out of her. Now she has a vacant stare and a single minded dedication to write the praises of the witch. The wagon stops. She enters and takes her usual seat near the window. To her it is just another day of gray haze in which she can only see the slate and hear the witch’s commands.

The traffic on the path is light today. I spot a dark one and wave. She rattles her chains and howls a greeting. The old man covers his ears and begs protection from his gods. The dark one laughs and disappears.

We come to the twisted maze that leads to the cave of Man-Boy. He takes the shape of a human adult with the mind of a child. Legend has it that he was given a choice between beauty and wisdom. He made the right choice and the gods favored him with beauty but withheld even the most common of logics from him. He is a real pain in the ass and his screeching is annoying to ear. He bounds through the door and smiles stupidly at the Zombie Scribe and the old man. I ignore the abomination.

The weather is terrible. Broad sunlight everywhere with clear blue sky. How I long for the comforts and pleasures of twilight and beyond! Oh how I wish for the silky landscapes created by Luna. Sol is just another tormentor for us dark ones.

Along the route, we see a few dark ones feasting on lambs. The old man shrieks and cracks his whip. One of the dark one growls and throw a bone at the wagon. The old man mutters an obscenity and whips the horses instead.

Our next stop is the University. It is a place where sheep are brainwashed and taught their characteristic blind obedience. It is also the resting place of the beautiful one called Oyster Lady. She is a lost one who is training to become one of us. She is always smiling that smile that has caused a lot of bloodshed….. But that’s what she likes best so who am I to comment. She always appears in a black veil that covers her entirely. As usual she smiles when she spots us. I open the door and she takes her seat beside the Zombie Scribe. The weather in the University is always terrible. The Sol shines brightly over flowers and green trees. After all these centuries, I still don’t get it. What pleasures do the sheep and the lost ones derive out of all this sickining greenery. It’s plain disgusting the way they roll around in the grass.

Now the most dangerous and exiting part of our journey begins. We almost touch the border of the forbidden place. We are here to pick up the one known as Friend. She is one of the creatures of Light. A more radiant and beautiful creature cannot be imagined. She is blessed with all the traits denied to us dark ones. Beauty as heartstopping as Death herself. More intelligent then any dark sorcerers. She is the most beautiful creature I have seen and you know I have seen them all, sheep, the lost and of course the fellow dark ones. But Friend is not like anybody else. Mere words cannot do justice to her elegance.

I stop the old man a short distance from her door. She has to walk all the way to the wagon and that is my intention. I know I will experience a longing that will tear my heart into pieces when I see her walking her down the path. The pleasure of watching her move is almost like a burning pain in my chest. It just a short walk but the way she walks!

I let my heart feast on her beauty and soak up her elegance as she takes her place just behind me. I tilt a mirror just a bit so that I can have an occasional peek. Even her image reflected in the mirror is enough to ignite the fires in me. I know I will be dead by the time the wagon will dump us at the Cube. The overseer will have to whip me again and then dunk my head in brimstone. But I just have to think of her and a warm pink glow replaces all the pain.

The old man turns the wagon and lets the horses loose. They know that their ordeal will end soon and run with all their might toward the place of our labors, The Cube. The wind whistles through the wagon. I settle down to plan my talk to Friend. So far she is a brick wall….. An unscalable and unbreakable brick wall. But I am a dark one. I will crack her walls and get to the person inside. Just need sometime with her alone. She is meant for me alone. Sadly she herself is the greatest foe I have to overcome in my quest for the one called Friend.

We arrive at The Cube. The old man jumps and opens the door. We file out to get our thumbs chopped off. This is the way they count us…….. By our chopped off thumbs. Just one example of the horrors of The Cube. Its there way of making you feel welcome. You don’t want to know what they do to the ones they don’t like.

I put my thumb over the block and with a cruel grin; the overseer brings down the axe. Blood sputters and my thumb just lay there; twitching like it suddenly has become alive. I purposely flick my finger and the digit joins the pile at the floor. I hang back to see the friend approach the block. What I wouldn’t give just to relieve her suffering. I turn my face away so that I cannot see her pain. Her slight moan brings salt to my eyes. I wipe them and take my seat by the Zombie Scribe, waiting for them to chain me to the stones and my first cup of warm blood. You see I am a privileged worker of The Cube.

A new day begins with its promise of misery and thankless toil. Another day of frustrations and unfulfilled promises. Another day I shall die bit by bit……. But the glow…. That warm glow ……..