Bedtime - A Short Story Anthology

Lucky, the Wanted

Lucky, the Wanted

By Heetal Binwani / StarSpeckledSkies

It's lonely, being forgotten.

Okay, I guess that's pretty obvious, but there's really no other word that can describe the feeling; a pain that reaches too deep and has throbbed for almost as long as I can remember.

If any other word could even come close, it would be 'boring'.

With nothing better to do, I begin counting the floor tiles within my field of vision. I already know what my final count will be - 239 - but at least it distracts me for a while.

I know that there are definitely more than 239 floor tiles in this store - even in just this room - but after three years of being powered down and stuck on this dark shelf, my hinges have rusted, and my gears worn down from the lack of maintenance, leaving me unable to even turn my head.

Once I'm done counting the floor tiles (there are 239 of them, as always), I move on to the ceiling panels. One, two, three...

After our creation, the Mechanics always told us how wonderful being Chosen was.

Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen...

But they never told us how painful being Unwanted was.

Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five...

Just as I hit thirty, the door bursts open.

If I could move, I would have blinked, both in confusion and to adjust to the sudden, dazzling brightness that floods the room.

The sun, I realize, after a moment. It's the sun.

When was the last time I saw the sun?

But, all too soon, a hulking figure appears in the door, blocking out those few rays of precious sunlight.

"-don't think you will find anything to your liking in here," The booming voice, which I now recognize as my Mechanic's, says. "But you're more than welcome to look around."

He steps further into the room, unblocking the door and the light.

And a little girl bounds in behind him.

I stare.

She has brown hair, neatly arranged into two braids that are tied together at the ends with a light blue ribbon, the same shade as her dress. She's short, much shorter than my Mechanic, and freckles dot her cheeks.

A child.

Another person, a tall woman, appears in the door, but I can't bring myself to care about the loss of light. It's been a long time since I last saw the sun, but even longer since I saw a child.

But my awe soon turns into confusion. What is a child doing in here? Why isn't she in the outer part of the store, picking her lifelong friend from one of the better creations?

Why would she want one of the mistakes?

The girl looks around, bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement. And then, she dashes off, further into the room and out of my field of vision, her braids jumping on her shoulders in time with her steps.

With her out of sight, I focus on the woman - the girl's mother, presumably - and my Mechanic. They talk quietly, clearly trying not to alert the little girl.

"Do you not have any... better options?" The woman asks.

My Mechanic shakes his head. "All my best automations were out in the open, madam. If your daughter couldn't find anything out there, she certainly won't find anything here. It's all junk."