Tin World

Make yourself at home

                You rub your bleary eyes and open them to the sallow lights of hell.  Hell doesn’t have fire, or at least not much, but it always has an unbearable heat lusting upon your flesh.  It smells of sweat and cold French fries… rotting food, soggy bodies.  Drag your feet there until the supporting tendons cleanly snap beneath the weight of the mind.

                And the Devil…?  Oh yes, there are many forms of that beast.  Woman, man, child… he knows no bounds.  Generally, he likes the form of The Woman.  Dark hair and cold steely eyes, she doesn’t look quite right… She gives a sense of deformity, but you can’t quite place it.  Ah! You say to yourself, perhaps it is the pug-like nose, the red, almost-sun burnt cheeks, the generous smile, but then the reply is no, no… that’s not it.  She seems so kind, The Woman.  She touches your arm and lets out a healthy, contagious laugh.   She is a combination of high-pitched ranting and whispered gossips. You laugh with her, because you must.

Not because you want to.

I don’t know how I came to this place.  The Woman is there, back turned to me, and The White One, he stands there supporting her choice.  A decision made casually— you must stay.  There are faceless souls across The Counter, and they pay no mind to my sudden alarm.  I try to bargain with The White One, a fat man with soft hands and fine suits.

What am I doing here?  I am not supposed to be here.  Send me back home!  Do you know how much this means to me?!

At first my cries came out noiseless—tiny mechanical squeaks and moans.  The words, when they do come, spur out drastically fast losing control and meaning in their speed.  The White One shakes his head and argues with me, The Woman saying little.  She wasn’t required to say much, as each word caused another sharp and grating pain in my side.  I looked down seeing my torso and abdomen in a muti-color of hues from deep red bloodstains to patches of dark indigo to streaks of ashen grey. 

At that point, I stared at the back of her hairy head, and I wanted to let it out.  Unleash the primitive human within.  Bang, bang on The Counter.  Blood in unkempt strands.  Wrath drawing blisters on my neck and the dead skin floating to oblivion.

I could almost feel myself mechanically doing it.  I scraped my fingertips as a strange sensation fluttered between them.

Like human hair.

I was sobbing now, dropping to my knees, knowing it to be impossible.  No one watched as the earsplitting tears flowed into dark puddles, the screech of human labor and machinery and faceless people overpowering me.  I felt myself going mad at that moment, or was I mad all along?  Everything was ringing in a friction and fury of the machines.

Can’t you hear that?

The Woman and The White One didn’t flinch or falter.  Instead they were plastering robotic and forced smiles to their faces, the skin pulled neatly back.  The ring was climaxing to a high-pitched siren--- a terrible, shuddering wail that spun the Tin World faster and faster into a chaotic blur of heat and gears and clicks.  The whirring came in dizzying wave after wave of nausea.  I pressed my bare cheek, flushed against the floor trembling in this unknown place.  As the siren burst into its final and nightmarish notes, I realized why it scared me so.

It was my own voice.

Then I woke covered in my own tears.

 

Author's Note

I realize I switch from 2nd person to 1st person. That is intentional. Just tell me what you think and what this piece makes you feel.

Reviews

[Ankat]

P2L5 almost-sun burnt : the hyphen placed as it is gives the appearance of almost and sun being attached to one another. I'm thinking almost, sun-burnt would be appropriate however, grammar is not my first forte. P7 seems disconnected it fits with the entire concept but misses a connection or I am missing the connection. Overall, it envokes a feeling of disturbance which with this type of story is the intent I'm sure leaving one to consider the view of those around us that suffer from mental disturbances.

[Endless Rain]

LOL I really thought this was hell which it was in a way. Very creative and it held my attention. The essence of feeling trapped and ordered around like a fiend was very captivating. Tin World is one of my fav's. Nice job!

[Adela Muresan]

Interesting.

I really enjoyed reading your little description of hell. The metamorphosis of the devil, is very good, as well as the presentation of the souls, as being faceless.

An image would be terrific for this, but I understand that an appropriate one is hard to find�

A.M.

[Mysteral - Night Prowle..]

I've had this piece sat in a browser tab for some time now, wanting to write something about it but unsure what to say, so please excuse the delay since the read request. I don't wish you to think I may see a problem; technically speaking, the writing is excellent. I understood the swap from second person to first before reading your note. It made a lot of sense.

It was the comment asking the reviewers to describe how we feel that concerned me.

To me, it seems very surreal, like a Salvador Dali print. I see vivid images in your description of the devil--the white man, the woman, the machines, but I feel very little. I see them more as being something very personal to you the author, something from your past that saddens me.

A terrific piece of writing, and thanks for giving me the opportunity to read and review.

[Michael X]

Magnificently detailed - I mean i felt myself immediately swept into the journey
you take the reader to the furthest depths of your imagination- at no point was i confused-
aptivating job at setting the emotional scenery- coinciding with focus effect
this is a writing i could read over and over and find something new.
Brilliant. thank you