A Picture a Day, Keeps the Something Something

One Picture, One Story

A Midsummer


The daisies swayed lazily in the gentle summer breeze. The air was full of the joyful sounds of the songbirds as they fluttered to and fro with the carefree attitude that only midsummer can bring. Alex lay motionless taking in the perfection of the afternoon with his worries resting far away, out of his mind. He had blown off work again with a 24 hour bug. Just non-descriptive enough as to not raise any follow up questions. Nothing was going to ruin this moment; nothing could ruin this moment. Suddenly there was pain, then darkness. Horrible, terrible darkness.

The light seemed to burn right through Alex’s skull. He sat motionless in the cold steel chair unable to move and unable to blink. Welcome, Alex.

Alex tried to move his head in the direction of the voice, but something was holding it in place. He tried to speak, but he could not make a sound. You are here for a while, so get comfortable.

There was an eternity of silence followed by excruciating pain whose cause Alex could not decipher. He tried to scream, but could not open his mouth. It is sewn shut! They sewed my mouth shut! There was a sudden flash of burning light, then darkness.

Alex, dear Alex. The voice was back. Alex strained to move, but the restraints rendered that impossible. Don’t fight, Alex, you are only wasting your energy. Alex relaxed momentarily. Again, he attempted to speak, but the stitches in his mouth allowed only a muffled mumble to escape. Don’t speak, dear Alex, for your words are what put you here. You see, you inspire those who were once powerless. You have created quite the problem for me, young Alex, quite to quandary. Pain! Oh the damned pits of hell could not unleash such pain! Darkness.

Six years earlier an election riddled with inconsistencies and strange coincidences had taken place. A young, idealistic leader was rocketed to power. A businessman, set on furthering his ventures to new and dizzying heights. Alex was just a young man at the time, barely old enough to vote and hardly at the point to be interested in the political or economical fabric of society. He had no clue as to the deep implications of the election results, nor did he care. Alex was a writer by trade and a dreamer by nature.

That damned light again! Alex tried to shut his eyes to stop the burning, but his eyes were being held open. Alex sat, unblinking, unmoving…

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