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year of the Fear

 
Engel's picture
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*Click*

Let it be known that the last year was - the year of the Fear.

By naming it properly I hope to bind it to a time frame behind us, where it can stay harmless and docile.

 

I'm sitting here in a small room filled with the slow buzz of a broken down red-enameled refrigerator. The rust is starting to show. The buzzing is a low, constant vibration that has been my only companion for a few hundred days. I don't think I've spoken a single word to any living being in the period. Even when I need to get Outside for supplies I just nod without uttering a word. Sometimes I wonder what is the sound of my voice and then I sing some old forgotten song, my voice all broken and raspy. Then I shut up and let the fridge sing its monotonous tune. The Fear has been building up in me for some time now. A constant, low fear that finally grew into a Fear proper over time. Oh how I long for a crisis, something to get my teeth around it. But... nothing. I keep eavesdropping the radio channels for things out of place but I get only idle chatter. 

I've decided not to become corrupt and start my own trouble. After all, I am a trouble shooter, not a trouble starter. One that is well past expiry date so I feel somewhat out of place. I'm still waiting for something to come my way. A tea-color-haired girl with a smudge of dirt on her face or for my Boss to call. But nothing happens to those that wait.

It's been almost a year and I wasn't contacted by my Boss... he doesn't need me anymore or there simply is no trouble to shoot.

But a thought has been wiggling inside my skull lately. I remember an old Sherlock Holmes novel where the smartass detective asks his doctor-assistant: "Have you noticed anything unusual with the dog's behavior last night?" to which the dumb doctor replies: "Why, no. I haven't heard the dog whole night." Triumphantly the smug detective replies: "That is the unusual thing."

When I think about it - the only thing out of place is that everything is alright - for too long. Maybe something happened to the Boss?

I might as well go and look for him.

 

*Click*

 

Comments

Joe Spivey's picture

See, now there's ya trouble right there... going looking. *long, whistling intake of breath* very iffy that squire, very iffy indeed. 'Going looking' I arsk ya. Wotcha wanna go and do a thing like that for? Nothing good will come of it, you mark my words... more tea?

Stick with me kid and you'll be farting through silk.



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