Insecurities Of Humanity

Long story short - The insecurities of Humanity

I live in a town where nothing really ever happens. We wake up; eat, work, take a nap and most things people do in a day. This was my life before. Now every night that I close my eyes I pray that the following events will never return as intense and horrifying memories. I lie down and close my eyes as I immediately realise these flashbacks will never leave me...

As I staggered through the tall and daunting electric gates I was being subconsciously held back by a part of me that was scared for my own mental well being. But I had to enter. After  all, no-one really knew what happened to those innocent children of God inside this man-made hell. All we know is they left it - different. Peace was replaced by fear. Forgiveness was replaced by suspicion. Benevolence was replaced by greed.  It was the mystery of the town, the damaging, upright and idol gossip spoken by the mothers and this is our towns very own horror story.

The building was labelled a  ‘Sanctuary’ via an old and worn down sign, placed on the dying grass in front of the dull and gloomy walls that made the building. Each wall was like its own creepy and obscure piece of art; all with suspicious stains and characteristic markings. One that stood out to me the most sustained a huge crack leading to a dramatic dint which would’ve withstood immense impact. With no better words, it looked like a place where people would go to die. This was my last chance to make the decision to enter or not - a decision others don’t have. The day seemed more overcast than usual and I noticed I  was surrounded by low lying blankets of fog. It was now or never, fight or flight - I had made my decision.

My parents and my bestfriend, Agnus, walked forward as the electrical doors opened, instant regret invaded my nostrils as the stench of raw meat filled my cavities. The place looked clean on the inside but this was the briefing room before the ‘activities’ took place. This was where they eagerly warned me about health and safety and began explaining the horrific steps of this horror house. Another unfamiliar being wearing the white cloak of death stumbled into the room announcing “We’re ready for them.” And so they were, we were abruptly ushered into the next room as the ordinary men began to reveal their true colours.

Innocent females were herded into an area of uncertainty like the Jewish filing into the gas chambers.My mum followed as the evil spirits in crisp white lab coats crept quietly towards them, enticing the ladies towards the devil’s lair, an uneasy hubbub stirred and developed into a cacophony of screams. Tension rose as a blur of colour: ebony, pearl, auburn and mahogany mixed frantically like the abstract pallet of a crazed artist. Death descended and pupils dilated showing the gateway to their frightened souls. Out of control, battered and bruised the children of God were filtered closer and closer to their fate. Dad stood by Agnus and I as we all watched mum be taken away. They told us hysterically that it was what we were made for and that it was our great destiny.  I began to fill with rage and I wanted to scream and explode. But I couldn’t move. It was out of my control as I witnessed my mother's last minutes.

Thud! Thud! Thud! The Knocker.

A four inch bolt of ruthless steel pierced her skull devoid of  emotion and left her body limp and lethargic. Within seconds, the chain clanged and hoisted her body upside down onto a silver hook. Brain dead but tortured, her flesh still twitched. The only sound to be heard was the drip of her scarlet liquid of life against the sterile coldness of tile.

Then silence.
She was dead.

They had took her away from me. Bile suddenly rushed through my throat and left me gasping for air.  How could they take her away from us like that? My mind was full of self doubt as I tried to justify the process in which they dehumanise themselves by being surreal in their judgements. They justify everything without all the information solely because they’re scared that  knowing everything will make them monsters. But that’s what they are. Infact a monster doesn't do enough justice to what they are.

They are narcissistic demons.
   
Just when I thought it was over, a man walked dauntingly towards her whilst holding a giant chain-saw and began cutting the flesh from top to bottom in a perfectly straight line. It was as normal to him as it is us walking across a field… he was oblivious to his latest  misdemeanour. Following this her carcass stripped of its skin and separated into body parts- the stench was stomach wrenching and yet everyone here, but us, acted normal.

I turned to tug on my dad and hope for some form of comfort. He wasn’t there.

I frantically scanned the room to discover that whilst I was painfully watching my own mother meet her end, they deceptively snatched my farther away from me . It was just me and Agnus left. Who was next? I couldn’t bare to see my only parents death so I closed my eyes; and tried to avoid any sound but it was all the same as the nightmare replayed whilst I closed my eyes.

Thud! Thud! Thud! The knocker.

I yelled. With all my energy and aggression I rebelled. How do they get away with this? I will not let myself become a part of this torturing tradition. We had to leave and quick. Before anyone were to notice.

Agnus and I discovered a pathway to our escape and ran, we were finally free. Whilst leaving the horror house in disgust the last image that I remember was my parent’s body parts which had been processed and reduced, were thrown into boxes. The workers labelled their coffin ‘minced beef’ and threw them into the truck… that was the last time I saw them and my final memory.

How is this not a crime in their eyes? When the workers of this horror house leave their children, what do they tell them they do as a job? Kill? I think not. It took exactly 2 minutes to drain the blood of my mother - that’s how long the knocker probably brushed his teeth this morning.

The work of the slaughter house is disgusting and it’s work is wrongly hidden in the insecurities of humanity. The sins of the Slaughter house will stay with me forever whilst in Newton’s law of motion it reads ‘To every action there is an equal opposite reaction’ and I hope for the hope of future existence that it is true.

I wake with huge disappointment due to the fact that again I slept restlessly and tortured by my memories.