The Vegetable

SHORT STORY on objectification. Oftentimes, the lives of humans are reduced to nothing.

It was a green, leafy cabbage that sat on a chair in the middle of the room. The lighting in the room wasn’t so bad -- each leaf of the cabbage was still visible all the way down to the white stems. It wasn’t your usual cabbage, though; this one was slightly larger - as if overweight for a cabbage - and was partially covered by some white cloth. The usual green leaves were replaced by slightly rotting brown, orange and yellow withering ones that made it look repulsive; inedible. Covering the top of the cabbage was a small oxygen mask that was strapped into place.

It had two strange medical devices stuck into it at the side; it seemed as though doctors were trying to suck the water out of it, or perhaps inject more water into it. It was all the same for the cabbage, it was more or less indifferent to what they could be poking into it. It was quite indifferent to everything, actually.

Some people would find it strange that a cabbage was sitting on a chair. It was quite a nice chair - a piece that could be found in a vintage shop on a nice street downtown. Its once vibrant colours had faded to light pastels, giving the chair a sense of well-worn authenticity. It would be the chair that one may sit in on a Sunday morning, drinking a cup of coffee, or maybe even doing the daily crossword in pen: fashionably aged and comfortable. Though it was slightly dusty from some lack of attention, it wasn’t like the cabbage gave a care in the world.

This entire time the cabbage had not moved; it was a quiet being, a silent being. Nothing else in the room moved, either. The murky coloured counters were home to stainless steel sinks with taps sealed shut. None of the cabinet doors were opened save for one in the corner; inside held medical items like stethoscopes, boxes of plastic gloves and the usual thermometers and hygienic masks.

It wasn’t a bland room, really, but it wasn’t a bright room, either. It was furnished quite nicely, with light warm colours and a flowery, fading wallpaper. Matching curtains and carpets, blankets and pillows, a book on a nightstand;  personal items were strewn across the room, giving it all quite a homely setting.  The thing about it was the eerie silence - a creeping, cold feeling that seemed appropriate for examination rooms. The heater ought to be turned on, really. But it wasn’t, and the cabbage had the enjoyable time to sit in the cool air. It didn’t really matter to it though. After all, it was just a cabbage.

The cold winter sun shining through the lone window was the only light source of the room. A couple of stray rays of light outlined the potted daffodil that was sitting on the window sill. It was still holding on to a single, worn-out yellow petal; the rest in disarray on the soil in its pot. The sound of footsteps could be heard; it appeared as though people were approaching the building. Then the sound faded away and returned to silence as the people walked farther away.

After some time, the door swung open. In came a young girl and her mother; the same people who walked outside the window.

“Mommy? Why isn’t daddy moving?”

Reviews

[OfDeathandLove]

I like the metaphor for this, the cabbage being...well, a "vegetable".

A couple grammar notes - Sunday should be capitalized, and "crossword in pen; fashionably" should be "crossword in pen: fashionably".

Other than that, I think this is a really good piece of writing. Good job!