I love sitting on the edge. Knowing I shouldn't be here. But its like a drug, just beckoning me back to this place and this moment. I realize as I stare downward. Just looking at the tumbleweeds below me. I hear the constant clicking. Every second sounding like a base drum beat keeping steady pace. Seemingly counting down to the moment that matters but shouldn't matter at all. My moment.
My palms are sweating with anticipation I realize as I stare down at my hands. They are calloused and rough. They are workers hands but they are nimble and thin. A trait necessary for today's mission. Today's mission. My heartbeat begins to speed up as if my is reacting to the steady beat. I can all but feel the blood stream through my veins, every heartbeat, every breath gearing up for the hunt of the chase. Every breath I get closer, every beat I feel this new need swelling inside of me.
I watch the cycle. A steady stream of tans and whites. Constantly rotating, consistently spinning. And I see it. The prize of this moment. Just lounging waiting to be grabbed. Its fluffy white skin and desirable size. But what really gets me going is the smell. The smell of the kill. The aroma of such a precious beast. It increases my needs of such a wild chase.
I can't stand waiting anymore. My moment has come. I take a deep breath, leap from my ledge and surf toward my treasure. I avoid the falling rocks and the swaying arms. I duck through the holes and out of the tunnels. I am one with my board. I get closer and closer to my kill. But the heat always takes me by surprise. My breath seems to leave me as I am reaching my hands out for balance in a lost world of whites and tans. I nearly reach my treasure. Afraid that too much more and I will lose this battle. Hand spread, waiting to make the grab. I spin on my board. Ready to make the trek back up the tunnel when I backhand my grab and hold it tight against my skin with my left hand. I swerve to avoid the sheets of netting and the strings of despair. Hoping, praying that I make it back out.
In my left hand, I hold my treasure. Not willing to make the effort that seems to be escaping into the heat. I get close to my ledge and take a short breath. I jump toward my ledge, my safety, my freedom. My right hand grabs onto the metal as I pull myself upward. This last bit of energy has left me exhausted. I fall onto the ledge. Knowing any move could be fatal, knowing staying here could be deadly. I open my eyes and peer down toward my left hand.
The mission was a success. I look toward the treasure. A Hanes sock, so unlike my others. It's perfect. A new one for my collection. Another one no one will ever find. I know that I can't continue in this moment until I get home. I squish the treasure into my pack. Knowing full well if anyone opens it, I will be condemned to death by The Strangling Giant. Another reason I am so relieved to feel my breath return to normal. Knowing I am out of the heat of the machine. I walk slowly back toward home.
I climb through the wires. Jumping on platform to platform. When I reach the bottom, I look back up at the machine. From here the clicking sounds like cackling. Maybe it is as pleased at my success as I am today.
I sneak through the back, and out the hole. I climb through the walls toward the colony. The attic is always an easy place for us to surface. The amount the giants use it is slim and sounds always seem to creak or churn whether we cause them or not. As I climb out of the wall I hear Pan.
"Sox! Where have you been?" My breath quickens just a little. I always fear I will get busted by Pan. I don't think I could take her disappointment.
"Hey Pan. Just looting the usual. A marshmellow here. A toothpick there. I need to be ready in case the rumors of leaving the house are true. You wouldn't want to starve waiting to find the next Colony to create would you?" I say sobered and confident. When it comes to Pan, she always looks so worried with her light silvery hair falling out of her bun and caressing her cheeks. Her heartbeat seems quicker than mine, all this worrying is a job of its own for her. As her magnificently dark blue eyes peer at me questionably, I bite my tongue afraid that if I don't I will tell her where I was.
Her smile erupts with a unspoken sigh. She hugs me. "Sox, you can't just run off all day! You have had me worried sick. I mutter an apology and begin to walk home. I clutch my bag like it holds the key to life and open my front door. I run down the hall and move my rug. Underneath it is a small latch, as I lift it, I smell the luscious smell of my treasure. It wafts throughout the house. If any of the others realized how sweet the aroma was and how necessary it was to my life, maybe they would understand. Just smelling the new clothes smell was enough to lose me in the moment.
I laid on my pile of mismatched socks and remembered the first time I stole one. The Giants were mad. They noticed one was missing and started to fight and blame each other. The furry Giant with bad breath got the majority of the heat.
My colony watched. They began a search party for the elf that stole the sock. You see, my colony knows nothing ever really goes missing. And if the Giants were that upset about it, it must be given back. I was hiding in my secret lair. Nestling my sock. Thinking back to the catch, the grab and the surf downward into the Machine. I heard the Colony enter my house. I stayed right where I was while they searched high and low. I wasn’t afraid of being caught. No one would find me. I just laid there. Cradling the sock like a baby, waiting for the Colony to leave. Eventually they would have to. When I didn’t show up, and neither did the sock. They left, resuming their search in the next house. I just laid there for hours, lost in the moments of the day, much like I am now.
Snapping back to reality, I realize I don’t smell my socks. I smell something thick and coarse. I have never smelled something so full of hatred and anger. I get out of my lair and can’t see inches in front of me. I begin to cough as I drop to my knees and crawl toward the door. There are sirens going off and as I open my door I realize the entire colony has fallen over. None of them are moving. I look back in my house. What do I grab? What do I take? I look into my hands. I am still clutching my first sock. I grab my bag, shove it in and crawl to the edge of town. Where’s Pan? Did she know to leave? I cough relentlessly and I feel the heat back in my throat. I can’t breathe. But I know how to handle such pressure. As I reach the gutter, I slide down hoping that the Giants are far enough away for me to make a clean break.
Of course that luck isn’t on my side. I sit at the end of the gutter as new Red Giants appear I hear them talking. The “fire” started because of a small woodchip getting caught in dryer.
The dryer? I have heard the Giants talk about my machine as “the dryer.” Oh no. My Machine, my surfboard, my jump. I left my surfboard in there. It must have caused this atrocity. I caused this hatred, this anger, this fire. I sit there and cry. Everything begins to hit me. Knowing I will never see my friends and my family again because of my sock. I will never see Pan again. I look into my bag. I see my sock and I leave it there to burn like all the rest.
