Lives Taken

October 25, 2012
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The walls are painted the colour white, if white classes as a colour that is. One. Two. Three. Four.
Four walls enclose Linda Loney. She sits in her chair, like she does every day, trapped in her own silent, unbreakable bubble.
A bed, a table, a locked door. This is all the minuscule room requires, for what else should Linda Loney need?
There is nothing to look at in this room; there is no scent in the air for her straight nose to sniff, no food for her chapped lips to taste, and nothing extravagant for her boned fingers to touch.
The senses are worthless in this room.
People like Linda Loney do not live here; they are empty bodies, filled with every mixture possible that creates...nothing. In some ways, this is the ultimate blessing. Linda Loney does not feel pain; she doesn't feel the rage that overcomes a human when they are angered, but most of all, Linda Loney doesn't cry.
Humans with emotions cry. Although Linda Loney is human by appearance, inside, inside the pit of her being, Linda Loney is...nothing. She does not exist. She holds no emotions. None.
Some would consider this a curse rather than a blessing, for how is this a life for someone, to be locked inside a room, forced to act life a robot, shut off from every human experience that we cherish in our lives, forever?
It is unimaginable.
Oh! But what is this?
Linda Loney's head moves. She is staring at the wall directly before her. The wall would have had a window if this was an ordinary building, and through this potential window, Linda Loney would see the world for what it truly is. A beautiful green garden, hand crafted by God himself, but full of the hate and jealousy of his children that lead to horrific events such as hate and war.
Would Linda Loney truly feel emotion if she saw what was out there? Would tears of shame leak from those vague eyes if she saw the horrors that occur in everyday life, outside these four walls that cage her? Or would she remain blank, like a frozen statue, sculpted with no facial expression? Would she remain blank like a piece of paper untouched by an artist’s skilled pen?
There is no way to tell.
Linda Loney will never know what it is like out there, for she will never escape. The guards make sure of that. It is their job after all.
Linda Loney's eyes are still resting on the wall; an image of some kind is growing, expanding, before her. She blinks. And there it is; an egg.
A white, perfectly shaped egg, embroidered into the wall, as if it belongs there, as if were always meant to be there. Linda Loney stares at the egg silently, not caring in the slightest how it got there. She watches as the tiny egg migrates into something else, slowly switching forms.
An eye. A piercing, white eye that stares directly at her, unblinking, ripping straight into her soul, if she has one that is.
Linda Loney stares back at the eye, not feeling threatened in the slightest from its unwavering stare. Linda Loney is used to people staring at her.
When she was young, people would stare at her, with their eyes only full of awe; admiring how natural her beauty was, because of course, Linda Loney was once a beautiful creature. 'An Angel of God himself', is how she was portrayed by her many admirers at the time of her short youth.
But then Linda Loney aged and started screaming at the voices that took over her mind; they were so overwhelming. So overwhelming. They told her to rip her hair out, and so she did. They told her to cut her cheeks, and so she did.
Linda Loney would listen to the voices intently, they were too strong to fight, and she was so frail at the time that she simply didn't want to fight. They told her to do such things.
Such horrific, dreadful things.
And now Linda Loney is a breathing corpse, trapped forever.
As Linda Loney sits up straight in her chair, not paying the slightest attention to her sore back, she faintly notices that the egg and eye are working together; combining their skills to fill up the walls before her, overlapping one another as they wrestle for first place in her line of sight.
Linda Loney counts each individual eye and egg over and over and over. One hundred and one. One hundred and two. One hundred and three. One hundred and four.
But they just keep coming. Faster and faster and faster, with no sign of stopping. They aren't going to give up. They are going to consume her mind. Linda Loney knows that, yet still she stares. What else is there to look at?
As Linda Loney stares at the egg, something clicks in her damaged mind.
Noises begin to erupt from Linda Loney's lip, but she does not notice. She understands now! God, does she understand! HE did this to her! The man that dared to place that wretched diamond ring on her finger destroyed their baby! HE did this! Oh God, he did this! Took away their child's life before it had even begun!
Yes! Yes! Yes! This is it! Linda Loney is standing now, reaching for the unbroken egg, trying to save it from that vile man that dared to call himself her husband!
The word revolts her.
The egg starts to open, and Linda Loney is screeching like a hawk that has found its prey. The baby! The baby is coming! That's what the doctors had shouted!
Oh Linda Loney remembers it all now! She is no longer a robot; breathing but not living. In seconds that Linda Loney is gone.
She is feeling the rage that humans feel in everyday life. Her hands are shaking. Everything is shaking, but she does not care. Linda Loney just wants her baby.
But the baby never came.
God, no! The baby never came!
Linda Loney remembers holding the still baby in her arms. A little boy the doctors had said. She was going to name him Herbert, after her late father. He was soft in her arms, unmoving and beautiful. But he didn't cry. Only Linda Loney cried. Her tears fell down onto his cheeks, drowning his tiny corpse. And then they took him away from her.
The voices are screaming at her, reminding Linda Loney of the pain, the agony, oh the pain that she felt that day. To have her child ripped away from her – to watch as they wrapped him in a blanket, covering his delicate face before he even got a chance to open his eyes and glance at this hell that we call life! Oh the voices! The voices!
Eyes. The eyes on the wall are still watching Linda Loney. They are overflowing the wall now, as if they are trying to jump out of the paint and fling right at her. She presses her hands to her ears, begging for it all to stop.
God, please just let this stop!
But they don't leave. Everything is so loud, so deafening loud inside her head. Why won't it stop, oh why?
The guards come in. They are dressed in white. White is the only colour here, if it really is a colour anyway. They grab Linda Loney and she screeches.
Oh how she would love to stab these vermin like she did her lunatic husband! Remembering how he cried out in pain! Linda Loney thrives off that sound.
It is the only thing that keeps her sane.
GOD, save my baby!
She had prayed those very words as she held her baby for the first and last time, as she stared down at his tiny features. Five little fingers. Five little toes. Unmoving. Not crying. Not breathing.
Still. There was no heartbeat. He was empty.
Linda Loney screams for God to save her.
But God didn't save her precious baby and he certainly isn't going to save Linda Loney.
God is the maker of the game that we call life, and we humans are the players, trying to accomplish the hurdles that God determinately throws in our way, trying to knock us off our feet and into the fiery pits of hell.
He refuses to help the one's that no longer class as humans, such as Linda Loney.
Because, if these players don't have the mind of a human, then they have already lost the game.

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This article has 18 comments. Post your own now!

OldYoungOne said...
Nov. 26, 2012 at 4:24 pm
Very detailed really enjoyed it. It made me think back to my friends experience when she had a still born. Great Piece. Very Intense.    Could you please read Alone At the Lunch Table and some other poem of mine? I'd really appreciate it especially if you rate and comment on it.
Snowflakes replied...
Nov. 27, 2012 at 3:57 pm
Thanks a lot :) And yeah sure I will, you've been so kind with your comments so I'll read and comment on as much of your work as I can :D 
Claudia.VII said...
Nov. 13, 2012 at 5:15 pm
First, let me start with, wonderful piece, very intense, which is what I think you've gone for. I have many people close to me who have had stillborn children and it has driven them to this, at least, in part, so I see where the idea comes from. And with that whole debate about God in the comments section... really now? Come people, just read it as it is and don't fight about censorship and all that, it's childish. As long as the author accomplished what she wants in the end, ok, it&... (more »)
Snowflakes replied...
Nov. 14, 2012 at 2:44 am
Oh wow, what great advice! Thanks a bunch that's actually helped me loads :)
jettabugThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Nov. 4, 2012 at 1:34 pm
Tears. All over my keyboard. This is the most beautiful thing I have ever read. Anywhere. Seriously. You have an amazing talent!!! One thing I particularly loved about this was how you used the same words to describe the baby and Linda. (dead, corpse, etc.) I also loved how you used her full name, Linda Loney, instead of calling her Linda or Loney. It made her seem insane; that's what I thought she was in the beginning. Great job! Keep writing, and good luck on your future w... (more »)
Snowflakes replied...
Nov. 4, 2012 at 2:14 pm
Thanks a lot :D 
Ellie M. said...
Nov. 2, 2012 at 11:02 am
Wow...... This is amazing! I love it. This moved me to tears. Well done! Amazing peice of writing!
Snowflakes replied...
Nov. 2, 2012 at 11:18 am
Thanks a lot :D 
Ellie M. said...
Nov. 2, 2012 at 11:02 am
Wow...... This is amazing! I love it. This moved me to tears. Well done! Amazing peice of writing!
CammyS said...
Nov. 1, 2012 at 5:15 pm
I was literally crying. I have nothing to critisize. Great work. Beautiful.
Snowflakes replied...
Nov. 1, 2012 at 6:43 pm
Thanks a lot :) 
WhenItRains21 said...
Oct. 30, 2012 at 12:30 pm
I love the beginning and the characterization. I also like how the tone goes from monotonous (that's maybe not the right word...) to frantic, as she realizes what her husband did, but the switch back to monotonous seems a bit abrupt.  I thought the story itself was great. It was very moving and really captures that emotion. Overall, I really loved it, but the tone switch caught my eye.
Snowflakes replied...
Oct. 30, 2012 at 12:43 pm
Yeah I see what you mean about it being quite abrupt, I may see to changing that >.> But thanks anyway ! :) 
mystyksuniverse said...
Oct. 29, 2012 at 10:49 pm
Eggs seem to be reoccurring in your writing; are they symbolic to you? Love how you describe the lack of senses and then society. Excellent development of character. Don't EVER censor your writing in hopes to not offend people. Write from your heart. I am not religious and I found this very moving. If people cannot read this with an open mind, then they should read something else. Merely pot in the caption that it has religious content (I always warn people of inappropriate content in my cap... (more »)
Snowflakes replied...
Oct. 30, 2012 at 4:44 am
Yeah they're symbolic to me for some reason, I'm not exactly sure why, they just are :) And thanks, I prefer this to my other one :) 
Lady_Teribithea said...
Oct. 29, 2012 at 6:42 pm
Wow. Just wow. This is moving, and breathtaking, and wonderful. My only criticism is the more religion based part at the end, seeing as non-religious people might take offense at this. Otherwise, this is great.
Snowflakes replied...
Oct. 29, 2012 at 7:46 pm
Thank you so much :')
I'm not religious myself, I just kind of went overboard with the whole religion thing, in the hope of showing how desperate she is.
But I'll take it into account, and hope it doesn't offend anyone, it certianly wasn't my intention ^.^ 
mystyksuniverse replied...
Oct. 29, 2012 at 10:51 pm
NEVER CENSOR YOUSELF. It takes away from the creative process.
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