Flash Fiction: The Collector

This is based on a recent dream I had which actually was from last night but who’s counting.

I entered the room and realized it was a deep room, spacious and long with no decorations. There should be no decorations in a room like this because this was a sterile type of setting without syringes or gauze pads. There were no remedies of magic potions or pills or clamps to stop the bleeding. This room had beds reserved for victims that would become survivors in certain ways only they could later recognize. The room would never see light from outside. It was always cold in there. You can't produce results with heat. You have to have it cold where the skins of people feel frozen, and the eyes of the near dead are glazed over like a fish that's been out of the water too long. It knows death is near, doesn't it? It had to know. They had to know because I knew. I am one of them. 

When I entered the room many times over, I had lost count and stopped keeping track because I had electrical devices attached to my face, neck, and upper body. I had cords draped over my ankles, climbing up my legs like vines, and resting peacefully but powerfully on my torso. What no one noticed or failed to notice were the rows of coverless beds with bodies that were once people I spoke to when I first was taken. It was an adventure, at first, but when we got wise to what was really happening, it was too late. There had been too many pauses when you asked the doctors questions. We learned the doctors were not scientists. These men and women were quacks and one step away from having the title of being the Devil's workers We were told it would never end for us unless we produced results that didn't end with demise. They never considered the heartache we would go through. 

One by one, I unplugged the victims from their machines and helped pull off their masks. Women, men, and children couldn't thank me because their voices had been taken away. The looks on their faces said it all. They were thankful because I told them it was over. They were no longer held against their will. They were free to do whatever they wanted and didn't have to worry about where to live, what to eat, and how to support themselves. The government who had mandated this were going to pay. There were supporters waiting in the wings to help them until the lawsuit was resolved. As more survivors got enough strength to get out of bed, I couldn't help but watch them in awe. Outsiders looking in wouldn't believe this happened. Their blinders wouldn't lessen the truth. There are only some of us who can take garbage and make it into precious metals. None of the false theories and fake lies changes the truth. The deniers can deny all they want. I will be their voice of reason when old habits come back. Souls can be lost but also won. 

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