The Rage: Part 12

XII

Emilia’s voice pierces the night like a deathhawk through the clouds, shrill and jarring. We scramble to our feet; Ragers will have heard her from miles away. Topi swears.

“She’s trying to kill us,” he grumbles. “We have to go back.”

If we let her carry on screaming, the Ragers will flock to the sound of her voice. She knows this. She’s doing it on purpose to attract our attention.

We find her cradling Miro in one of the small warehouses. His shirt is soaked with blood from a wound in his chest. He was caught.

“Please. You can help him. You have to help him,” Emilia blubs.

Miro’s skin is pale and he can’t breathe properly. His fingers keep curling into fists, flexing and relaxing. He’s infected. I know it. Topi knows it. Deep down, Emilia knows it too.

“Are you hurt, Mili?”

She shakes her head. “Just Miro. Please. Help him!”

“Okay. But I need some space. Step outside with Topi. Get some air. It will help you, I promise.”

“No. I can’t leave him! You’ll—”

Topi puts his hand on her shoulder. “I think it’s for the best, Mili. She works better on her own.”

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Here’s last week’s winner!

Merry Moon

In response to Jo’s Monday Motivation writing challenge: “Smoke”

Tendrils of serpent-like smoke rising.

Thick and opaque as it fills my head with

memories

of relaxing times

painting the blues with my psychological brush.


*The first thing I thought of when I saw “smoke” was Nag Champa. It’s one of my favorite scents of incense. 🙂

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The Rage: Part 11

XI

They say that pipes were used to carry water.
They say that hammers were used for construction.
They say that cables gave people power.
I suppose that last one is still true now.

People lived differently Then, though. They pretended to be characters in books that they had read to tell the stories to other people. They adorned themselves with gemstones and rare metals. They ate food from ceramic platters using knives and forks.

Now, books are fuel and playing pretend is for children. Jewellery only weighs you down. You eat straight from the pot with a spoon. The knives and forks are all used as weapons until they are bent and useless. Everything we own has a purpose and everything we do is considered.

Topi and I battle past the Ragers in our path to the next building. They never surrender. You must break their legs before they stop running and even then, they still crawl. The snaps and pops of breaking bones is as much a part of my life as the drumming of raindrops on a roof.

But they will always heal. We never stop them for long. They will always be coming for our blood.

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Bye Smartphone

I’m going to give up my smartphone.
I hate the bloody thing.
Absolutely loathe it.

It’s broken, see. Of course it can tweet and Facebook and browse the internet, look up articles on Wikipedia and give me instant access to every cute puppy video on YouTube (not to mention a million blurry selfies and all the dinners ever made). But the one thing it cannot do is make phone calls.

Smart? Maybe. Phone? Not so much.

I want to go back to my Sony Ericsson C510, but this SIM card will no longer fit. The Sony Ericsson was lovely. It made phone calls – received them too – and text messages… Oh boy, could I send text messages. Honestly, the text messages were one of the main draws. The smartphone can’t do that either.

I do know one fix for the issue with my smartphone. It’s the tech helpline favourite: turn it off and on again.

Only the smartphone can’t manage that. Not unless it’s plugged in. Even with a full battery.

I was using it to Google a solution. I looked for twenty minutes before I got a stress headache and stopped. That’s when I realised… I don’t need this shit.

I don’t want updates every two weeks.
I don’t want six thousand notifications for all the apps I ever used.
I don’t want “smart”.

I just want a phone.

And so I’m getting a new SIM card and giving up the smartphone. It’s going to begin a new career as a torch. Or a paperweight.

Time will tell.