skonen_blades (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
skonen_blades) wrote2008-03-23 10:37 pm
skonen_blades) wrote2008-03-23 10:37 pm
Saboteur
The ship is sinking. My room is called a berth. The fact that I’m about to drown to death in a berth is something I find ironic.
My employers are smart. They sent me onboard with a suitcase bomb. They told me to open it and assemble it once we were sixteen miles out to sea. I’m the saboteur on board. I’m here under a fake name.
This ship was on its way to put a stop to this year’s whale hunt. It was a Greenpeace vessel. I’m a whaler who will lose my family if I don’t complete this mission. My employers are mean people. The righteous people on board with me who run this ship are trusting. This is why evil triumphs.
My employers want the whale hunt to continue. The hunt is one of the only sources of revenue our country still has. We’ve already exported nearly all of our pretty young women. Our drug fields are wilting from global warming. There is no tourism to speak of and nothing of worth is hidden beneath the soil. My country is made of small-minded, vicious people. Less of a government, more of a tribe.
A tribe with a small fleet of whaling vessels. A tribe with some leftover weapons from the Cold War. Leftover weapons like a large pile of C4 and some digital timers and primers.
I was supposed to open the case and assemble the bomb. I’d set the timer, get on a lifeboat, and leave in the middle of the night before the ship exploded. I had a beacon with me that my country would use to find me.
I am not smart.
As soon as I opened the case, the bomb started counting down. Opening the case triggered the countdown. I was never supposed to assemble anything or get to a safe distance.
The sent me on a suicide mission without telling me.
The timer said fifteen seconds. I wasted five wondering what to do. I wasted another six opening the porthole in my cabin. With the last four seconds, I threw the bomb out the window.
It landed in the water, snuggled right up to the hull, and exploded.
I am burnt and I am broken. The salt water pouring into my berth is agony on my wounds. I am deaf and I am blind.
I am drowning and I am grateful.
If my employers have done this to me, it means that they have already killed my family.
I am going to join them.
tags
My employers are smart. They sent me onboard with a suitcase bomb. They told me to open it and assemble it once we were sixteen miles out to sea. I’m the saboteur on board. I’m here under a fake name.
This ship was on its way to put a stop to this year’s whale hunt. It was a Greenpeace vessel. I’m a whaler who will lose my family if I don’t complete this mission. My employers are mean people. The righteous people on board with me who run this ship are trusting. This is why evil triumphs.
My employers want the whale hunt to continue. The hunt is one of the only sources of revenue our country still has. We’ve already exported nearly all of our pretty young women. Our drug fields are wilting from global warming. There is no tourism to speak of and nothing of worth is hidden beneath the soil. My country is made of small-minded, vicious people. Less of a government, more of a tribe.
A tribe with a small fleet of whaling vessels. A tribe with some leftover weapons from the Cold War. Leftover weapons like a large pile of C4 and some digital timers and primers.
I was supposed to open the case and assemble the bomb. I’d set the timer, get on a lifeboat, and leave in the middle of the night before the ship exploded. I had a beacon with me that my country would use to find me.
I am not smart.
As soon as I opened the case, the bomb started counting down. Opening the case triggered the countdown. I was never supposed to assemble anything or get to a safe distance.
The sent me on a suicide mission without telling me.
The timer said fifteen seconds. I wasted five wondering what to do. I wasted another six opening the porthole in my cabin. With the last four seconds, I threw the bomb out the window.
It landed in the water, snuggled right up to the hull, and exploded.
I am burnt and I am broken. The salt water pouring into my berth is agony on my wounds. I am deaf and I am blind.
I am drowning and I am grateful.
If my employers have done this to me, it means that they have already killed my family.
I am going to join them.
tags
no subject
no subject
no subject
one of my friends lives in the southern US and he likes guns. he likes shooting targets and the focus and "moving meditation" of it.
and i counter that i do/get the same thing when taking photograhs.
and there is this same quality in your writing. it's a focus and you can feel the stillness in the process even when the story is about chaos.
when i look at a piece of art, it draws me in.
as does your writing.
my camera feels like an essential part of me.
does dedication to your writing feel like that?
it's blabby. i'm trying to say "wow" and using a lot of words to do it.
i
no subject
Thanks for the wow.
no subject
kindred.
no subject
no subject