The Mystery
He was safe, safe to the point that he didn’t even have to think about it, he just knew. He wanted to stay here but somewhere in his conscience he was aware that it would change.
Outside they talked about the chaos, the restlessness of the world and though he didn’t catch every word the tones they made left a certain sense of apprehension inside him.
When he rebelled against them they cheered and pointed to his presence like a jeering drunken mob until he just curled up into a ball and felt as though he was suspended in a state of fearful animation.
Throughout the days and nights he hardly moved and existed only, resigned to his fate.
It would be terrible when he left here, everything would change and he knew that he would never be able to come back.
Why couldn’t he stay here?
Why did they have to push him out?
But it would happen.
Suddenly there came a horrible tension, it was unbearable. He felt a physical pressure forcing down on him that was pushing him out. He began to scream but he couldn’t hear anything, moving forwards now he felt this was the end.
Finally they would have their way and finish him off.
As he appeared before them they pulled and cut him and slapped him and this time he screamed louder and longer. But they all just cheered and smiled.
He writhed and kicked out as they handed him over to her, his face a pure and undiluted form of incomprehensible mystery.
‘Here you are Mrs Jones, your lovely healthy boy’.
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