Jan. 1, 2007

This is a short story I wrote during my 12th year of high school. It got me into the finals of the Sydney Morning Herald/Apple Computer Young Writer of the Year 1995 competition. And so, with some hesitation, I thought I'd share.

Dreaming, Waiting

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Her grim emotions trouble me. So significant are her intentions that she thinks of them constantly. I worry for her as she battles for sleep, but her mind is hyperactive with the aggravating thoughts. She assesses them continuously, unable to define a conclusion. So I lie here, in the warm rhythmic darkness of the uterus, trying to learn of what it is that she is contemplating. I will give her time and support, so that she may heal. I can wait. I have time. Actually, that is an absurb understatement, for I am still quite fondly attached to my placenta.

Before the pain we were able to dream together. She allowed me to have a glimpse of the outside world by way of dreams ingeniously generated from her memories. The dreams displayed the wondrous beauty outside. I am so eager to farewell this darkness, to dance amongst the colour, and interact with other containers of life. The dreams were an enthralling preview of life; a sequence of scenes, enough to a general idea of what life is about but never delving into specifics. Their task, it seems, is to prepare me for existence beyond the womb. For this I appreciate the dreams and yearn for their return.

The partition commences with the introduction to vision, the exchange of greetings, and it then becomes my main source of knowledge.

Flash. My powers increase, and I see my carrier smile; she’s so impressed and proud.

Flash. I tread on the miniature artworks that cover the land, hearing them crunch underfoot whilst the brown arms above reach to touch the blue with their naked fingers.

Flash. To spend time learning the ancient technique of taking in sustenance. I will look up shyly after an embarrassing backfire to find comfort in her laughter.

Flash. Inclusion in a circular chain of young life containers. The circle rotates on the soft greenness, its members smile and giggle, and I thank the controlling powers that I am there with them. Oh, how I look forward to it all!

The second partition is of rapid change intertwined with the confusion from uninvited bizarre alterations. I selfishly focus anger onto those that I love. I respect my carrier for her patience whilst I work through the turmoil created by the surreal swarm of changes.

Flash. The actual container itself takes on great significance, for reasons that I do not comprehend, and this induces many complications previously non-existent.

Flash. A new world of activity and belief beckons me. Frightening? Perhaps a little. Yet it is so wonderfully mysterious. My curiosity demands to be fed, and who am I to deprive it?

Flash. The pairing of containers?

Flash. Affection? Romance?

I think it is somehow connected with the two distinct paths through life of which there is no choosing. It is magically determined. Such an important event is it that from now on I will be paying special attention to my nether regions, such is my anticipation for the decisive changes.

Onwards the dream’s images would fade into her reality, because her most recent memories are etched deepest and are unchanged by time. This is when the dream is no longer of me but of her. She is caught up in a universal fast paced numbness, where materialistic activity is the dominant factor of life. Recently she turned towards another container for affection, but unfortunately something went wrong. I can sense her regret over that decision. The dreams clearly shows that her life lacks true joy, the type often lost when containers grow out of the first partition. Hmm…perhaps I could help.

Yes! Yes I could!

I don’t mean to boast, but I’m exactly what she needs. I can remind her to cherish life, and turn her from the superficial existence. This is perfect! We can help each other out. She’ll teach and love me as I grow and I’ll show her how to laugh and have fun again. Oh yes!

Too much waiting. There’s nothing to do here, except sleep, and I can’t even do that while she’s so upset. I grow weary of waiting. I’m too excited! I want to get out and run about. I want to have fun, see the world, and enjoy everything that life has to offer. You see, the pre-partition is no fun, especially with my stress saturated carrier. If she continues like this for too much longer, I’ll be driven to a pre-mature expulsion from the foetal sack faster than the love crazed sperm that I used to “half” be.

Oh no! Something is very wrong here! My tiny pump is thumping, almost as fast as the loud echoing beat throughout the massive chamber. She’s shaking. Nervous perhaps? No, she’s afraid, but of what?

Clean?!?... Outside, it’s very clean, somehow cold? Where are we carrier? Tell me! You’re scaring me. I only have you. Always remember that we are one. Do not abandon me. Please… what is going on?

She’s lying down now. Her hands clutch cold metal. She’s sweating. Guilt. I feel the immense surge of guilt through her, followed closely by ice logic that attempts to reassure. Reassure her of what? What are you doing carrier? Tell me! Let me know!

Something has intruded into her, its intent is evil. She feels it, she knows. What is it for carrier?

NO! STOP IT!

This is wrong, you can’t do this! Do not allow it. You do not give a gift and take it back. We need each other. I need you.

You are selfish. Listen to me!

I am alive, do not abort me. I want so much to live, to fulfil the dream. Why do you hate me so? Why? I don’t understand.

I now see the metallic murderer enter my home.

I have only dreamt. Damn you! I want to live!

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