Aisle 14
by Maria Corazon A. Inay |
Today I heard the screams start up again.
They were gone for the past few months, the longest interval from the shrill sounds of fear and pain. Long enough to make me forget that they happened. I briefly wondered what made them come back, what sin was done and considered so unholy that it was worthy of producing those screams as punishment. My heart went out to the poor soul. I knew what I had to do. I did it every time the screams started up again. I wondered when I'd be able to get some sleep again. I rolled my shoulders back, getting ready for what I had to do. It was hours before they finished harvesting the sounds. At least I got to prepare. It also meant that the screamer was in much worse condition. I rested my head on the pillow, getting comfy for an hour's work. A tap on the window - that was the only opening I had in the room, a window - confirmed that I had a job. "Aisle 23, cubby 1." The tinny voice from the machine on the left said. I simply nodded. I knew they could see me. I closed my eyes and let the memory of the screams flow through me. Aisle 23, I thought. I floated down the aisle to the cubby where the screamer was kept. It bothered me that I didn't get the urge to vomit. The cubby was empty though. It was weird. There was blood on the floor and scratch marks on the walls. This one's a fighter. I wondered how long the desire to fight would last. I floated back to my room - an unnumbered block of whitewash walls with one window - and settled back in. I was going to do something I'd never done before. I was going to use the little white machine and report that someone was missing. I paused. If the screamer got away, maybe I should let them go. It was just one screamer. I opened my eyes, still unsure of what to do. What I saw made me even more confused. My room was no longer a box of whitewash walls. There was no window or little white box. There was simply the inscription on the wall. Aisle 14, Cubicle 8. |