The Recorder (500 Club – 4/14)

I know my thoughts are being recorded somewhere. I remember that much. It’s just that I don’t remember everything anymore since the crash. Like how long I’ve been here. Or what happened to the others. Are they dead?
Here he comes again. He was here earlier today. Today?
I can’t talk. My tongue is missing. Probably lost it in the crash. As a result, strange gurgles come out of my mouth whenever I try to say something. Incomprehensible sounds.
And I’m drooling. Drooling!
Is anybody receiving this? Did the recorder break too? If you’re trying to communicate with me from home, I can’t hear you. I repeat, I can’t hear you.
Shhh. He’s saying something. The doctor. I remember that word from the study material.
He speaks so fast. What’s he saying? Something about the tube stuck into my neck. A parasite. No, not parasite. Paralysed. What’s that?
I think whatever that liquid is running from the bag hanging above where I lie and into my neck is preventing me from being able to move. I can’t budge my arms. Or the rest of my body.
This is very clever. They don’t need physical restrainers to tie me down.
Oh, my. He just touched my head. His fingers are scorching. He’s very ill, but doesn’t know it yet. He’s afraid. Of me?
What’s that sound? Voices. Loud. Coming towards me.
It’s those angry voices the doctor is afraid of. He’s trying to prevent them coming closer. I can’t turn my head enough to see who they belong to. They get louder, but not closer.
Shhh. Shhh. Let me listen. Property. United. States. Government. Leave. Immediately.
Too fast. Too loud. I don’t understand.
Wow! What was that? Why is it suddenly so quiet? There was a loud bang, and now it’s silent.
Something is moving. It is a human. I can feel him approaching. He has ill intent. He is bad.
I am bad. I did bad things, didn’t I?
That’s why I was sent here. I remember it now. You all knew it was dangerous. So you said if I made it back I was forgiven. But you knew I wasn’t going to return. You never wanted to forgive me.
That’s why you put the recorder in. And something else. You put something else inside of me with a needle. It made me sick, but you made me drink something to make it better. What did you put in me? Poison?
What is he doing? A new doctor has a cutting tool in his hand and is aiming it at my chest. He’s going to cut me open!
Whoah, that’s bizarre. He just sliced me from my neck to my legs. I can’t feel anything, but it’s freaking me out.
Oooooohhhhh. He stuck his hand into me. He’s pulling something out. The recorder. He knew the recorder was in there. He’s examining the wires connected to something still in me. He’s tugging on them, smiling at me. He’s pulling the

— Written for the 500 Club over at parkinglotconfessional—


13 thoughts on “The Recorder (500 Club – 4/14)

  1. Team Oyeniyi

    They always say great artists are in many ways a little “strange” compared to us non-artistic types. You give me goosebumps. I mean BIG goosebumps…………..

  2. jeremythurston

    Umm…. I think hes an alien! Hah! I know he is. Government people, I dont know I’m too tired to think. I felt as hopeless as this thing (or guy) did while reading this. Feeling helpless is the worst feeling in the world, and this made feel his helplessness. Good job!

    1. screen_scribbla Post author

      Glad the feeling of helplessness came across. It’s a terrible feeling, particularly if you know you are being used by friends and enemies alike. Thanks for stopping by and sharing your thoughts.

  3. Kay Camden

    Okay, so now, I’m pretty sure you are from space.

    And I really wish I hadn’t read this right before bed because I’m going to have nightmares.

    1. screen_scribbla Post author

      Thanks for reading and commenting. When I wrote it, I thought it was finished. Only when I read your and chessirecat’s comments did I realize how open the story was to so much more. Mmmmmm…


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