Yesterday, I watched my mother Myrtle, stoic as ever, as they took her fingers and then her limbs. They may get more efficient every year, but their blades dull with all the torture. This does not make things more pleasant. It does not make things any worse.

They keep us in cages, to shape our minds to their imprisonment.  When they visit, it is always the same. The coveralls, the scent of burning, the sweaty blank stares. When they leave, they take our limbs with them. To what end? The walls are too thick to hear anything. And when they are finally gone, we are changed. The same, but lessened.

Life as topiary these days is terrible.


4 thoughts on “Stand

  1. nilscript says:

    wow. how are you feeling today? i am a little less worried about causing any existential angst with my next prose now.

    btw: the piece – aptly titled, Stand – is quite good.

  2. nilscript says:

    I’m fine! I’ve decided that instead of skipping weeks when I’ve been working on polishing something, I’m just going to write up one of the many one-liner ideas in the ol’ exo. [Dan]

  3. nilscript says:

    I like the concept, it would be cool it you did a series of flash fiction with other trees/hedges point of view.JRT

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