Tales of Way Back When

Someone said hell is other people. We were convinced of it, back then. Or something only a breath away: other people are poison. Their touch could make you deathly ill; their breath could kill you.

Every day, the death toll was beamed into our homes. Wasn't even "mandatory viewing", like in some futuristic dystopian novel. People are morbid. They love a good death toll. It's juicy. Folks like being scared. That's why they tell each other ghost stories, ride rollercoasters, and watch horror films.

Just because you seek out being scared for whatever reason, (maybe your parents bubble-wrapped you too much as a kid; maybe the local council took away the monkey bars because of Health and Safety) doesn't mean it's always good for you. It hobbles your brain, the way a cowboy hobbles his horse.

Wouldn't want your mind running round willy-nilly, now would we? Thinking. Getting into all sorts of bother.

Frightened people are stupid, like panicked animals. They're already cowed, and obedience follows, sure as thunder follows lightning, or a smell follows a fart. They're like to do as they are told. They'll bite their flockmates, too, like as not. They all think they're Mr Schindler, but the truth is, they'd relish the idea of shopping a neighbour for Not Following The Rules.

So: we put our heads down, and we stayed indoors. Our physical health suffered, our waistlines expanded, our minds rotted. We avoided each other, and let's face it, some of us were glad of the excuse to do that because other people can be infuriating. But people need people, like them or not. The human is a social beast.

If we did venture out, we gave others a wide berth, and covered our faces. We scrubbed our groceries before we took them indoors. Babies were born and lived for months without seeing the smiles of strangers. We waved at each other through screens and pretended this was enough, while pre-schoolers fell further behind with social skills, and rickets made a comeback. Businesses closed forever. People lost their jobs.

The arrows faded on the supermarket floors. Many didn't want to admit how toxic it all was. Truth is, we're still healing.

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Word count: 366

(NB. This excludes the title, subtitle, and author's note.)

Submitted on Monday 21st October at 20:47

Quick Author's Note

A Year of Stories: I'm writing (and submitting, here) a story every day this year. This continues my 295 daily micro-fiction story streak since 1st January. I'm nearly at 300!!

ONLY SEVENTY-ONE DAYS TO GO!

Please consider lending your support to the other creators on this madcap "a story every day" adventure. They're putting out excellent content every day! Rachel Deeming Gerard DiLeo

Thank you

Especially if you are one of the wonderful people who has been staunchly reading these daily scribbles since the start of the year. I see you, and I am extremely grateful for your ongoing support.

Thank you to those who leave feedback/comments. Bear with me while I catch up on reads (I will have much more time to do this at the end of the coming week. In the meantime, I do appreciate your eyes!)

If you enjoyed this one, the very best compliment you can give me is to share it, or read another!

This is my latest dollar challenge. Please have a look.

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