Stranded [2014WC]

Twenty-fourteen, it's not exactly a mouthful, but it's long enough to convince me that I'm living in the future. I was born in nineteen-ninety. Same syllable count, I think. The main difference is found within the stark change of the millennium. Millions lived entire lives isolated in one century. Think about it for a second or two. It means nothing, really, other than simply illustrating the conceptual idea of being temporally isolated. Imagine being locked within a century with no means of escape, save death. It's a frightening concept.

Isolation, that's a word that describes the date, the time, and this present future in which I live. By the end of twenty-twelve, many expected some great war, spiritual awakening, natural disaster, or alien intervention. Well, unfortunately none of the above occurred. We simply weren't that lucky. It was wishful thinking, I see that now. I can see a lot of things through a clearer perspective now that I live in twenty-fourteen. A future unclouded by the haze of illusion, who could ask for more? Blue skies from here on out. That doesn't sound so bad, but the contrary remains true.

The truth is a little more complicated and significantly more frightening. Those terrible or beautiful things that many of us anticipated to cause a great shift in reality were the manifestations of a secret that lives within our very souls. It's a secret in so far as no one dares to utter it outside the dusty pages of untouched texts of philosophical musings. It's a common secret that we all share. It crosses religion, race, class, and geography. Our dirty little secret.

I'll tell you what it is, because I know you pretend as if you're clueless. We're stuck here, with the rest of them.

Yes, it's that secret, the one that causes your heart to sink in your chest. The secret that you seek to shield your children from when you raise them to believe in something great and good within the world. It's that same secret that whispers to you when you look under their beds to shoo the monsters away. You look into the eyes of your child and tell them that the monsters are gone, no more, and that it's safe. The lie feels good, i know, because it felt good hearing it. Truth be told, you know exactly where the beast lies. You simply wish to shield your progeny from such information, for if they can believe the monsters are tucked away in some hidden place, maybe you can too.

It's twenty-fourteen, I'm twenty-four, and I don't have children. I don't have the luxury of playing make believe. All I have are facts. I'm stranded on a sand bar, out in the cosmic void, surrounded by dark forms of ill intent. The monsters are a part of my life, a part of my being. They always were.

The reason why we hoped for such catastrophes or spiritual revelations was because we were conscious. We were conscious of the monsters that surrounded us. We wanted them dead or changed, but we undoubtedly wanted them gone.

Every man, woman, and child houses a great leviathan capable of heinous acts of intolerable injustice. It simply sits there biding its time, hungry for the day in which it pounces upon the world.

Twenty-fourteen was and is a revelation of truth. Clear skies from here on out. I am stranded, on a blue island in the middle of a vast ocean of darkness. I am stranded with 8billion little monsters that wear fleshy suits of pink, brown, yellow, and black. They hide in plain sight, calculating the exact moment of their attack. It is twenty-fourteen and I am stranded. Alone. In the dark. With monsters. Just like you.

SnF.

Awesome writing, very descriptive. Kinda really hits home. Dark and truthful.

reply to post by Druid42


Thanks, I appreciate it. Thank you for taking the time to read!

reply to post by TheOneElectric


Nice story.
S+F