#morewritings

This one was a free writing that just had the theme ‘something changed.’ I think it has a strong Stanley Parable or Beginners Guide vibe to it. 

     All the workers were drinking their coffee, getting those morning tiredness to disappear. Some spilling coffee on their suits and dresses, leaving a nasty stain. Though nobody seemed to mind or notice, they weren’t there to look professional, they were there to do their job. Day in and day out, working with no pay. With very few limited water breaks, the water cooler almost seemed to begin to collect dust. With no Janitor, it was never cleaned, the water now bared a nice murky brown color. Nobody dared drink it, only more lean on it and ponder the idea of drinking it. Though the workers never complained, that's what they were created to do. Day in and day out, with limitless work. A collaborative yawn stretched the morning workplace. Almost as if it was in tune. Almost like a mini harmony. Nobody was phased by this, almost as if it was planned.

     Everything planned, everything perfectly calculated, everything predetermined. The sips of coffee, the tapping of constant keyboards, the dropping of the pencil. Wait… that pencil wasn’t supposed to be there. It was supposed to be in Johnson’s  pencil cup. Right next to his blue and black pen, making a mini sandwich. But not, its not in it’s normal place. It’s rolled onto the ground. Planted right under where Johnson should be. Then again...where’s Johnson? Not at his post? That’s unheard of. This wasn’t planned. It was all supposed to be normal today. A part of the code is missing now. It could ruin the whole database. It could ruin our company. It could shut down the whole system.

     “Dear god, Johnson, why have you forsaken us!” An ear shattering buzz fills the room, giving a blue screen to every computer. The walls began to sway, almost as if blown by a storm. The worker's type faster, trying to fix the error. The water cooler conversations become shorter. The water turns to an Opal black. Beginning to roar louder than the buzz. Breaking the eardrums of every single worker, but they kept typing. Faster and faster, leaving skid marks on their respective keyboards. Each worker drawing sweat down their face. Even farther from the plan. Documents flying into the air, disappearing just as fast. Leaving a burning smell in the air.

     A shadow appears at one of the doors, simply walking in past all the chaos. Walking up to Johnson’s chair, grabbing the pencil and putting it back in its place. Only then to sit in the chair and start typing like nothing had happened. The typing slowed, the walls straightened, the buzzing stopped, the water was its murky self, but the papers were gone. With no recollection of ever existing.

     “And that’s why I failed my History test.”

     “You're telling me you made this whole huge analogy that represents your brain, just to get out of studying?”

A bit different from normal writings, this one was an old assignment in which we had to personify any single thing of our choosing and write their story during World War Concentration camps. The main idea of the paper had to be ‘the day before liberation.’ As you can tell by the title and its concept it’s anything but uplifting so fair warning.  

Death Sends His Regards

     It's been a long time, just sitting outside the doctor's office. Watching other people walk in to see the doctor before me, but I’m not here for help. I’ve made myself a little home, for my career is here. Sitting here I’ve created a name for myself throughout the camps, may it be Death, the Grim Reaper, Taker of Souls and the name I hear the most here would probably be  “Angel of Death.”

  I lay outside of the doctor for i know anyone who enters is doomed to not come out. For it’s my job to escort those who can’t get themselves out the door.Tragic it is, but after the amount of people you see it becomes a norm. I believe the damned soul of Stalin said it the best, “one death is a tragedy one million is a statistic.” Which sounds like an over exaggeration, but that changes when one just sees the masses of bodies piled up, which used to be normal people growing up with dreams and goals, until their life was sadly cut short. May it be to disease, over exhaustion, burning alive in a kiln, hanging, ss bullets, famine, or simply losing the will to go on any farther. No matter the cause it was my job, no...my duty to take these souls away to the eternal plane, may it have been an eighty year old man, or a six year old child. No person was showed mercy, in the camps you were just a normal person, acted up...you wouldn’t even see sunrise.

     Life is funny, so many different and diverse species, but those that are the farthest advanced don’t fight other species, as much as they fight themselves. If only people could create an understanding for each other, but alas they can’t, and my job becomes more tragic. 

     So here I am in a camp said to be meant for work, which is truly a place meant for mass killing sitting out side of a doctor's office with a man who can do nothing. I pity him, one of the few mortals who sees almost as much death as I. The Doctor used to cry for every doomed patient as they died in his hands, now he hates himself for it, yelling and cussing out his patients for putting such a burden on him. He may be part of the group who's causing it, but when humans were created, all were born with a heart that wanted to care. May some care more than others, there's always a part of humans that want to care. A doctor originally meant to perform horrible experiments on his patients who changed his ways and tried to save them. Sadly he can’t. In his head he almost wants to join his patients just as a way out, but his time isn’t now.