Her body lies, stiff as a tree trunk, on the soft, pillowy mattress.
The warm, silky blankets float around her, cuddling her like a mother deer snuggles her young.
Her fists are clenched, her spine rigid and her heart slashed right through - with jagged lines sawed deep into it.
She hates it.
She hates it all.
At first, it is just one.
One small droplet woven purely from anger and anguish slides down her sun kissed face.
Then, more and more squeeze their way into this world, this horrible, terrible world.
Her soul, leaking it's sorrow for being trapped in this disgusting form.
Soon, the water pouring from her is a ugly waterfall made from millions of droplets of liquid hate.
She hates that the sun who kisses her is burning them to death.
She hates that soon there won't be any lions.
She hates that there are sheds packed with chickens, cows, pigs, who will never know the sun.
She hates the look of her house, she hates the space it takes up.
She hates that the sun who nourishes the green outside is burning the ozone off.
She hates that the rubbish they discard so carelessly is piling up, the not-so-imaginary weight on our Earth's shoulders growing every second.
Most of all, she hates that it's their fault.
She hates her species.
And she hates herself.
YOU ARE READING
Three Seconds
Short StoryShe's literally lying in the bed of luxury. She wishes she was anywhere but. She wants to change the world. But has to accept she never will.
