I feel like this is one of my better stories. It's a psychological story about corporate burnout and the unfair feeling of being only an asset rather than a human being.
I'd be interested in seeing any feedback you guys have to say. I feel like this is one of my better works and this will help me prove dramatically.
Bob
I arrived at work with a dress shirt that was crumpled like paper and a pair of loose suit pants. The elevator door opened and I walked around the corner until the coffee machine appeared. I grabbed a cup and placed it under the stainless steel machine. God. My glasses were falling off the side of my face, and my eyes were red but I did not do drugs.
My coffee was ready and I walked to my desk. I sat down and the chair descended, cracking as I placed the cup beside the photo of my cat “Rodger”.
I worked on organising and analysing data until the morning light glared off my laptop. I emailed a briefing to my team and took a short break, grabbing a coffee on my way out.
My break had ended and I went back to work.
“Good morning. How are you?”
“Good. How about you?”
“I'm good.”
He wore a necklace engraved with a heart and he smelled great. I wondered what cologne he was wearing and how he didn't slouch like me.
The door opened and…
“Hey man, last night was lit!”
I didn’t remember there being a party.
I walked to my desk. My colleagues glanced at me but never spoke to me. My station was in the far corner. I used to get a “hello” from Bob but he's gone now. He was the best of us and he was always kind to me. We used to talk about cats… it was the only thing we both had. He was the greatest of us, always the first to reach his KPI. Nevertheless, one month he requested a short break. He needed time for his eyes to return to white and time to cure the coffee stains that soaked his teeth. Yet, they had said no and… I was allowed to adopt his cat. I was the only person in his will. The cat's name was “Whiskers”.
It was 5:00pm and work had ended. Everybody had left aside from HR. I approached and was waved in.
“Hey Rachel. I came to ask about a potential raise… and, maybe a little bit of time off? I always reach my KPIs first and I feel like I'm working far above my pay. I just need a little bit of time off.”
“Let me look into it. What is your name?”
“My name's Rob, like Bob with an R.”
“Okay. I'll consult HR and determine what we are able to offer.”
I walked out of the warm office shivering.
I arrived home and was greeted by Whiskers and Rodger. It was 5:30pm and I needed to get ready for bed or I wouldn't be able to wake up for work tomorrow. I quickly fed my cats and brushed my teeth and put in my eye drops. I could never get rid of the stains between my teeth. It was like trying to scrub mould out of grout with a finger.
I woke up and rushed to work because I was late. I could not stop fidgeting with my car keys. When I arrived I managed to sneak in my briefing to my team before HR called me in.
“Bob. Correct?”
“No–”
“We are not able to grant a pay raise or leave. A yearly pay raise is due next quarter and demand is extremely high. As an invaluable asset, you cannot be granted leave. If you have any further inquiries or questions, feel free to email HR. Thank you.”
“But the pay raise is barely a percentage, and–”
“Email inquiries. Thank you, Bob.”
“My name… never mind.”
I left and walked back to my station and sat down and continued working. I needed to work harder and then they would give me a break.
I went home at 7:00 pm. I fed my cats, brushed my teeth and put drops in my eyes and set my alarm for 4:00am rather than 5:00am. However, I struggled to sleep.
I woke up and I could not move. My eyes were teary and my room smelled salty. I was shivering and drenched in sweat. I went to pet Whiskers but he was crying and ran away from me and I couldn't even sense Rodger. It was lunch time and I had countless notifications from work. I tried to reach for my phone but. I just… I just couldn't.
It was 4:00am. I was starving and Whiskers purring was relentless and Rodger… I was not sure. I managed to get out of bed to feed the cats. Whilst I was up I made cereal and ate, ate and ate. Then I went to brush my teeth and there was a dead man in the mirror. My hands trembled and I ran back into my room. I curled into a ball under my blanket. I wanted to go back but I remembered work messaged and emailed me. I grabbed my phone and read: “Final warning. Come in tomorrow or don't come in again.” I gently placed the phone back onto my bedside table.
I had fallen asleep again. Whiskers had been crying all night and I wasn't sure of Rodger. I was unsure why because I fed them and gave them water and even left some snacks out last night. Regardless, I got out of bed. I turned on a tap and filled a jug and began pouring it into the cat's bowl. The water flowed and Whiskers jumped onto the bench. He began crying. I went to pet him but he curled up into a ball. I looked at the water and I saw the dead man again. He was holding a jug, his teeth were brown and his eyes were red.
TW: Mental health crisis and themes related to suicide and death of loved ones
Letter to Myself
I write this letter to myself, as I cannot muster myself to seek help externally from loved ones or professionals. This letter was not intended to be perused by anyone other than me, but if it seeks others, must you know my frustration may be incoherent, and I hate myself for not being perfect. Regardless, here a casual day in my Australian town commences:
I stroll the streets, the tall incandescent lights flicker a dark yellow, which bounces off the noses of the bikers that screech past. My hands are numb, for I forgot my gloves today. I smile as I glance towards the lake, Mumma used to juggle me in the air and catch me there. I miss it. I want to singlehandedly rewire the fabric of time to see mother again, but I shouldn't need to: God forbids me this opportunity. I did nothing wrong. Mumma did nothing wrong. I hate God. God is The Devil, he kills and allows children to suffer because why–they have free will. The world is awful: a black hole, constantly absorbing hope until it’s all lost. My life means nothing. I beseech the divine to save me from my torment. I dream of suicide, an end to the perpetual torment of society, but I cannot bring myself to hang, or to choke, or to bleed my heart out. Mumma needs me.
I continue to walk through the streets, my fellow pedestrians glance at me–I killed their mothers, fathers, families, pets? No, I didn't. I know why they sentence me to damnation, but I cannot afford to repent. The bare essentials have grown exorbitant: soap, water, shampoo, toothpaste, all of it! I can nearly smell myself!
A group of teenagers flew past me moments later in a luxury car that I couldn't even name and cursed me:
“Smelly cunt! Get your life sorted you weird fuck!”
“Holy shit you're fucking ugly!”
“Fuck mate, time for a shower! Ya hair is fucking disgusting!”
Prior to my hardship, I could name every car, no matter the branding or model… now I'm a smelly weird cunt, with disgusting hair, and probably a fucked up deformed face, a small penis, and the masculinity of a toddler… not even Mumma would desire a glance at my face. God would not discover beauty in my soul.
Finally, the hospital appears. It is a small, almost abandoned house, with two doctors, two nurses and forty patients. I continue walking towards the hospital. They wouldn’t stop staring. I know I’m ugly. I know I’m smelly. I know God deserts me. I don’t want this anymore. I just want Mumma to be better.
“Welcome back Sir! Did you need anything, or did you know where to go?” The receptionist told me. She was so pretty. She didn't find me pretty. I think she secretly despises me, I’m her alarm clock. Nobody likes their alarm clock. Everyone despises me–even I despise myself.
I found myself walking past her. I can navigate to the elevator blind. I pressed the button next to the elevator and the door opened. Floor 2. The wooden elevator rises and I stand there as silver coins slip out of my pockets. Fuck sake. The doors slowly open–Mumma's room is on the right, engulfed by blinds. I rubbed my hands together nervously. I did this everyday yet I could not bear entering Mumma's room without tearing up. I opened her door. The monitors blink profusely and the green line reads 0. I reach into my pocket and grab Mumma's medication, throwing it at the floor. The glass bottle broke and scattered shards everywhere, cutting my feet.
Oh kindest and all-loving God, how can I thank you!
Sincerely, Sir.
Chapter 1:
I stood beneath a large sycamore, the puddles reflected my brown eyes that stared at a beauty which would fracture the most indomitable minds. My vision was blurred with liquid–I did not know if I should cry of pure joy or fall to my knees–praising the divine. All I had ever witnessed had not even the faintest sentiment of what beheld me. It was more beautiful than the most beautiful sunset I had ever gazed upon–more beautiful than the prettiest women I had caressed–more beautiful than the Mona Lisa. I wished time would cease–my admiration never having to dwine. But that is not how life functions.
A delicate touch caressed my skull as a gust of wind besieged my side. My vision was slightly obscured by my light gray hair that wavered along with the wind. I reached upwards with my hands and stroked through it–the delicate touch trickled down the side of my skull onto my ear, landing on my shoulder. It was a green, almost yellow maple leaf. I gently grabbed the leaf, placing it onto my palm. I brought the leaf towards my face and smothered it. I shut my eyes and smelled the leaf so deeply perhaps I had never breathed for a thousand years. The scent was unexplainable–it was nature. Raw nature… the most vivid and lively paradox. I laid the leaf onto the grass. It was like my hands drifted through the clouds as the grass enveloped my skin that was as smooth as a baby’s belly. I laid beneath the sycamore overcome by nostalgic peace–perhaps I did not deserve to witness paradise, but I would not concur otherwise. The light's reflection had dissipated from the water, overwhelmed by an array of purples and oranges that oversaw the sky. Bright dots glimmered as the sun fell beneath the earth. All my life, this heaven had seemed too perfect. But deep down, I knew my skepticism was futile. I knew this world was perfect. My eyes gradually closed as slumber neared.
A sensation tickled along my forearm and gradually trickled upwards towards my shoulder. My vision was blurred but nevertheless the world grew bright–ahead a beam of sunshine reflected off the water directly into my eyes. As I raised my hands to rub my eyes, a little red ladybug descended, landing on a thin blade of grass below. Oh the grass–it was a luxury rug and perfume simultaneously. I rubbed my eyes and ran my hands through it, pushing downwards to ascend. I let out a slight grunt as I collected my stature, but perhaps my fragility was payment–an angelic “tweet, tweet” sung into my ear along with an easy breeze. A miniscule bird, with a striking blue forehead and black mask fluttered wildly between, around and onto the sycamore–it was an innocent child, enjoying the purity of life. I fixed my eyes and like an eagle I tracked. However, my vision digressed as a collective of trees, bushes and flowers waved at me. I cautiously walked down the mound which I had laid upon, a disorienting crack sounded with each downhill step I took, hence followed by a wince too. I had finally reached the forest–the forest that had been grown in heaven. My pain-struck face had transformed into one reminiscent of pure joy–I guessed my teeth shone like gold as my mouth widened, with my eyes growing teary at each moment. Vines swung down from the canopy in each direction, obscuring my eyesight through joyous methodology. Tiny thorns protruded from these vines, as a colony of black specks crawled upon them, scouring for a sweet treat. Towards the canopy hummed a peculiar bird with a melody sweeter than anything I had heard from a tavern, and green stick-like bugs jumped and glided from leaf to leaf. Oh and the smell was so intoxicating I had begun tasting tea. Dark red roses had shot up like bamboo as bees drifted amongst the flora. My desire to explore had peaked, but I was forced to sit temporarily otherwise my back pain would never subside.
As the day had become afternoon, my ventures were ready to begin once more. I conformed to a slouching position as I began observing the forest once more, even though I knew it was doing more harm than good. Sticks crackled under my worn leather boots as my gaze lingered upon rising smoke–the scent was so prominent I grasped my shirt and covered my nose and spat onto the ground like a smoker. It was so powerful I had tasted it. How decadent for such a wonderful place? My observant eyes had grown determined and my wide smile had become neutral. I walked slowly towards the smoke, its origins were near. Suddenly, my ears wiggled–an echo of distant voices penetrated. I thanked God that it wasn't a predator, not that it was likely here. I stepped out of the forest as a bush lassoed my pants like a python. I nearly tripped but thankfully not, my back would have been agonising.
I regained my stature and found the origins of the fire. I saw a small village with several thatch houses lined up followed by a path in front of them, and a campfire to the right where my gaze met anothers'…