Lights flicker.
It’s time to wake up.
My eyes open. I reach for the button next to my bed. The voice silences. My bed begins to adjust to a seating position.
I look around. The same sight I see every morning greets me. White, unfurnished walls. Soft light filtering through the blinds in the windows. The door in front of me opens, beckoning me outside the safe haven of my room.
Read MoreA murmur ran through the huddled mass, leather soles slid and skidded on the dirt floor.
“Quiet now, quiet,” The priest urged. “Don’t disturb his rest.”
It was barely visible to the onlookers in the doorway, but the slight glow and faint hiss emanating from the sleeping infant’s chest spoke what was yet unspoken. The worst had come, the boy was marked.
His father buried his face into his hands, the tips of his fingers pushing the felt farmer’s hat off the top of his head. His mother remained silent, blinking infrequently -- she was too physically and mentally exhausted from the thirty-hour labor to cry.
The priest turned to the midwives and farmers clogging the doorway to the hut. “Go. Leave us.” Some hesitated. “Please.”
Read MoreThe Man in the Box
There is a man, and the man lives inside the box. He is comfortable enough. When he reaches his feet, he can wiggle his toes, and if he curls a little, the man can sleep.
Sheep
At night, the man dreams of a sheep. When he wakes up, he draws the sheep, tracing his finger along the side of the box. He can never get the nose right. It was thinner, no, rounder, no, bigger, or maybe just a different color. Sometimes, he draws it with his pinky finger, but his nail is too thin, so he uses his thumb. Every night, the man dreams of the sheep, and every morning, the nose is wrong.
Noises
Sometimes, the man hears noises from outside the box. The man does not like these noises. He curls into himself, jamming his palms over his ears.
Read MoreLeaning against the window, I wait quietly as the snow falls outside. Each year it snows like this and each year I wonder what would happen if there was too much snow, so much that the roof caved in. Where would we go? We don’t have neighbors for miles. Right now it’s piled up so high that only a small sliver of light can poke through at the top. In the other room my mother sits by the fire in the near darkness of this house. She says that she’s waiting for our father to come home, but she performs each of her actions slowly as if preparing for the end.
“Simon,” she says. It is the first time she’s called for me since the day before. I walk towards her my eyes drawn to her silhouette in front of the golden fire. When I reach her I stand in front of her as she sits. I look into her eyes and I see the same fire and warmth reflected in them. But she blinks and the fire becomes more harsh. It roars with a certain fury. She takes my face in her hands. I kneel to make it easier for her to hold me. She lets go. And leans back in her chair with the same stoic expression she always wears. “There is much on your mind child,” she says. “Tell me what it is.”
Read MoreYou walk into a small room. There are no windows; the walls are black. There is a small wooden table with two chairs, one on each side. You sit down.
A few moments later a doctor comes in. The doctor is wearing a white lab coat and has glasses. The doctor sits down, looks at you, then writes something on a clipboard. Neither of you say anything yet.
Finally the doctor says, “Do you have any questions?” The doctor does not look up.
“Yes,” you say. “What exactly happens in here?”
“This is where we perform the experiment.”
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