Waiting for Death

Since I was unable to get a good recording of my reading last night, I figure I’ll try and make it up to anyone who cares by posting an offensive story. haha

No one wants to publish this: not because it’s demeaning to anyone, or has a lot of gore or foul language, but mostly because it makes you see another side of a popular children’s book that most people may not want to see. (I could be wrong, it may just be a terrible story who knows heehee)

So without further ado, I’ll leave this little flash piece here and wait for the angry letters to flood in.

Waiting for Death

The pain never eases. Old age plagues my body: I’m stiff, sensitive, and rotting. Cataracts cloud my vision as I look out and try to imagine the barn.

The inviting aroma of the feeding tough is my only comfort. I slink over to munch on the molded piles of leftover food. I gorge and my stomach gurgles. To distract myself from the pain, I think back over my long life.

I remember how she saved me. She weaved her web to call attention to my worth. In her eyes I was a creature worth saving. But what did she know?

She died and left me here.

Never once did she plead to be rescued from the engulfing embrace of the end. Could she have known that death would someday become a comfort?

I’ve seen friends come and go. Been gifted the light of love to have it severed with each season. My piglets, born before my eyes, now gone.

The farmer promised I would live and here I am, alive. If this can be called living. I wake, I eat, I shit, I sleep.

I once frolicked and played. There were conversations to be had, new animals to make acquaintance. If I’d have known, maybe I would have rather been butchered. Feel one clean stroke and be done with.

This, this is torture. Each breath is agony. I hate it.

I don’t make friends anymore. Everyone fears me because of my anger. I refuse to woo anymore sows. They won’t survive me. It’s become too much to bear.

The lasting generations of spiders remind me of her, the one true friend.

Now I loathe her good deed and despise such connections.

I hate her and wait for death.

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