How A Raging bull
Set in the prairie, a large fence sticks above the grass, falling to ruin in some places. There, in the field stood a once proud bull, now reduced to weary bones covered by a thin sickly hide scarred and bug-bitten. His eyes, already lifeless and empty had gained even a glassier look, like he had no will left in him to fight anymore. That was even more evident when I entered his paddock, and he didn’t even lift his head, let alone chase me off. It was almost sad to load him up to take to the factory, where his skin would be tanned and turned into leather, while what little meat we could find was sent away to be packaged for distribution.
The Craft That Made Me
Since as far back as I can remember, yarn has been a part of my life. I remember getting pulled out of Kindergarten to learn how to finger crochet a long chain. I remember the woman who taught me had a stroke earlier on, so half her face was paralyzed. She had a piece of metal in her eyelid to help her blink. I was told the finger crocheting was to help keep me focused in class. I loved it and gladly taught the skill to anyone who wanted to learn. I still am astounded that humans came up with ways to turn one string into many, and the many woven together to form ropes and yarn. I can't imagine being the person who figured how to make a cloth out of a single thread.
What's In The Box?
UNUSUAL PACKAGE DETECTED! The robotic alarm screamed from the factory floor. Curiosity got the best of some of the newer workers, and they brought the box to me in my office high on the third floor. The package in and of itself was nothing special, just a simple brown box, wrapped with the same color paper and tied with a bow of twine. Worker #284 set it on the polished mahogany of my desk, and we all stared at the thing as if it would open itself.
In The Bakery
It was a busy Saturday morning in the coffeeshop, when I wheeled inside. From my wheelchair I could barely see over the counter; perpetually stuck as a ten year old. The one good thing about my perspective was that I had the perfect line of sight to the desserts. Being sickly thin and constantly shivering, I was used to strange looks wherever I went. I used to get self conscious, at the beginning, but eventually I learned to ignore people's reactions. I couldn't really blame them for staring at me; I would in their place.
The dusty wind blew morosely through an empty lot, barren land wiped clear of all plant life long since. I pulled my shawl even tighter around my nose and mouth, in the hopes of keeping any grit out. All I had to do was make it through this minor dust storm to reach the market set up in the abandoned mill across a patch of empty land.