Mime

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Encourage Writing Inc.


A young man finds himself trapped as a science experiment he doesn't quite yet understand. He dreams of freedom, but reality soon slaps him in the face.

Submitted: December 01, 2017

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Submitted: December 01, 2017

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He  was trapped in a box, to put it simply. It was a sort of ovalish compartment with straighter edges than corners but the top was curved as if he was laying down inside some sort of odd spaceship.

 

He could see it now - he was shooting through space and time, passing by the stars at rates faster than his neurons could process the views. He was folding reality in half and racing towards some unknown destination, some strange epiphany that would strike him at any given moment.

 

His stomach bolted out of his chest and switched places with his heart. He was about to come face to face with something amazing, or something equally horrific.

 

His mouth dropped open, spilling a barrage of saliva onto his shirt as his galactic journey came to an end, and in actuality, he was not wearing a shirt. It was the cold spark of slimy water that woke him from his fantasies. The sliver of spit dribbled down towards his stomach when he realized he was, in fact, wearing nothing at all.

 

He was trapped in a glass box and a stark naked body, to put it cleanly. It had a sort of bluish glow he could only see by peering at the curves with his peripheral vision as if he was gliding through the ocean without the need to move at all.

 

He could see it now - he was twirling through the water, swimming by any fish or sea creature so fast all they were seen as were smudges on his windshield. A boat! That’s what ihe was in. A submarine, more precisely. He was spinning towards the light that crested the waves, forever attempting to reach it while continuously achieving in not drowning.

 

His head swirled with awe. The magnificence of the world was too beautiful to behold.

 

His eyes widened, dilating his brown pupils and devouring all that surrounded him. He realized the smudges he saw out of the corners of his eyes were not smudges or fish at all. It was the moving of one of these dirty spots from one side of the box, all the way around his head and over to the other side that told him the ocean only existed in his mind. The other spots moved as well, dancing around his body and finally coming into focus as people, not specs of residue.

 

He was trapped in a glass box and a stark naked body by people who did not want him free, to put it blankly. It was fogged up around the edges so much so he could barely see his feet as if he was flying through a patch of heavenly clouds.

 

He could see it now - he was soaring through the air and weaving around the sun, painting this blue canvas with all the colors of the wind. He mixed pinks and purples and sprayed them across the top, saving oranges and reds for places closest to the bright star. He was creating something incredible.

 

It was a secret he could share with all the world without them knowing he actually had something to hide.

 

His hands grazed his thighs, holding an imaginary paint brush that suddenly became very clear was completely fictional. He fell out of the sky as he brought his arms up to his face, touching each feature and making sure nothing was broken despite the fact that he was never really in the clouds in the first place. He reached up to touch the glass that covered him and left fingerprints above his chin and saw, at last, that the blue was coming from blaring lights flashing on the ceiling.

 

He was trapped, naked, in a box by people who did not have even the smallest sympathy for him and something had gone terribly wrong, to put it truthfully.

 

He could see it now - he was sitting in the back of an ambulance, the sirens blasting through the crisp night air as a city ran beside him. Thousands of windows and cars dominated the scene, but he was racing against the clock in attempt to stop an untimely death that loomed towards him.

 

His feet ached to run far, far away from all the danger that persisted in knocking him down. Death was inescapable.

 

He curled his hands into fists and banged on the glass above him as the sirens of the vehicle transformed back into the blue flashing lights. It was each hit, each forceful stretch of his arm that moved him farther and farther away from the nightmarish dreams. His mouth screamed with silent profanities, pleading and bribing and insulting ears that did not and could not listen. He was lab rat, he was scientific entertainment, he was in desperate need of a way to escape.

 

He felt the box around him, touching it with all of his limbs and stretching his body out as far as he could, which wasn’t very much. Water emerged from underneath him as fast as the ambulance, causing him to float as if he was in the sky before rising so high he could swim in its ocean. It penetrated his eyes so all he could see was the blackness of space and then the blackness of nothing at all.

 

He was trapped in a box and he couldn’t tell if he was still breathing or not, to put it lightly.

 


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