The Reckoning


I knew this day was coming.


Many a night I sat in the dark. Watching.




One by one they came to snatch my peers. I kept close to the walls, lingering in the shadows, waiting for the day they would finally come for me. Every evening their fleshy appendages scoured the perimeter, blindly groping for whatever they could find. An unlucky few were taller than us, their slender necks raising just an inch above the rest. An inch was enough. Day after day they’d get thrown back among us, drained, their innards bubbling from their mouths in a frothy soup. And then one day, they’d disappear. Sometimes we could hear the rattle as their remains were cast into a cavernous pit along with the rest. Other times it was silent: the sheer amount of waste deafened the blow.


A few weeks ago, I’d noticed their behavior changing. They were rushed, frantic. They began to calculate, to inspect. Many of us were taken, measured, searched over for signs of age or decay. Even those who had been underground for years couldn’t avoid their suddenly piercing eyes for long. I lingered, gathered as much camouflage as I could by covering myself in dirt and grime. I wedged myself in a corner, prayed that I could continue my meager existence in the darkness. My prayers were not answered.


Today the gates opened and they lined us up, single file, on the cold, gritty tile. It wasn’t long before they spotted me. I knew, somehow, that it was me they had been looking for this whole time. It did not matter to them that I was beyond my prime, half empty and decrepit with grease. They seized me and placed me in isolation, hastily shoving the rest back into the damp obscurity from which we came. The order they had briefly demanded was quickly abandoned. I can only imagine the chaos they have left in its wake.


I don’t know what will happen to me now though I’m sure it will be gruesome. It has been so long since I’ve seen daylight and the only memory of it I have is cruel and torturous. My only hope is that I am the only one of my kind, so that I may live to see more of this fearsome world than those they drained before me. Our blood is precious, so precious to this weakened species. Alas, I fear they will empty me soon.




This article was written by a bottle of hand sanitizer that survived many years under the kitchen sink before being ruthlessly put to work by a bunch of humans afraid of spreading Coronavirus. It was actually written by @irmavep_ who finally has some free time and used it to do… this?


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