A Series of Unfortunate Miseries

A short story: Naomi

The interior smelled so much like rust and tarnished metal. I listened to the gears slide against each other and the conveyor belts fasten. It made my stomach turn upside down. The aroma was similar to rubbing your fingertips against a penny and later sniffing the scent of your skin with fake copper. The machinery screeched and kept a constant resonance. The atmosphere would ring into a sempre and the distinct noise of ripping metal. I shifted my eyes through the broken windows and the piles of trash. I couldn’t even wander that far without my jeans getting ripped to shreds.

“Naomi, when can we go home?” I whined. Naomi rested against a clobbered car with the hood sinking to its wheels.

“Later Madeline, stop complaining.” Naomi softly replied. She was staring at the speckled sky amidst its amber hues. I slammed my foot hard against a blown out tire. It whirled a few feet off the ground and landed near the trashy car Naomi had taken a liking too. “God damn it Madeline!” Naomi raised her voice. She lifted herself off the battered vehicle.

“It’s getting late though! Mr. Sullivan will catch us sneaking out and get those nasty rottweilers on us!” I retorted.

Naomi pushed her hair away from her face and sighed, “Fine. You just have to always ruin my good time huh?”

“A junkyard is your definition of a good time?” I shrugged.

Naomi.

She was a perennial riot that would not stop playing by the strings. Everybody admired her witty judgment and relentless spirit. Her posture was straight, and her fingers pirouetted through the keys. She would shut her eyes and let her hands dance through the melodies. The world sat subjected by the symphony and their ears glued to her radiance. I sat on the sidelines and observed her actions.

She was lively as the blue flame in the lanterns of Japan. The sky was a bright yellow as it slowly transitioned into a deep purple majesty. This is when Naomi came alive and tore away the threads attached to her psyche. The limelight coated her skin into wild shades. Her hips swayed as the rest of her limbs followed the buoyant rhythms. The sweat would trickle down her skin but exhaustion was far from the question. It was a dance that had no breathers or breaks but constant movement. If you couldn’t pick up your feet, she solely believed your sorry ass didn’t belong on the dance floor. The music was literally drenching its sonic waves into her mind and tainting veins. Her muscles loosened and nobody could control such a fiery being.

But I knew [l]better.

“Naomi!” Her mother screeched. Naomi could hear the sounds of rustling paper and car keys tumbling toward the floor.

“Why yes dearest mother!?” Naomi’s mouth struggled to strain into a smile. The paper her mother was holding was crumpled completely due to her tight grip on it. Naomi stood wide-eyed and feeling a fear grasp her spine. Her hands were close to her sides with irregular breathing patterns.

“What is this!” Her mother sharply said. “I didn’t raise my child to get nothing but straight A’s!”

“It isn’t my fault!” Naomi pleaded.

Her mother’s eyes were piercing into her skin. It was times like this Naomi wished she was a robot. She wished her skin were completely cold. The ways you touched metal and could only feel the smooth, frigid surface. Her head nodded, like she was programmed to do. There were times she resorted to complete brutal arguments but it would be smart just to keep her lips tight. It wasn’t her fault that her technical mind could even earn her the perfect score. A perfect score would make a perfect child. A perfect child would make a perfect family. Isn’t that what she wanted after all? Didn’t she want to tread upon her parent’s broken dreams and carry them to the end? After all, a human could only do so much. But that was it, was she even human?

I watched her limbs dance according to the strings attached. The puppet master lurched his hands forwards as I watched her lifeless body plunge to the horizon. She followed every order and words that came from her mouth were no longer hers. Her legs dangled from the wooden barriers that held her strings. It scared me enough to know that she wasn’t controlling her own living body. It was her eyes. Eyes that gleamed with so much fire, but I looked beyond the windows. I looked beyond the windows to see a wretched heart, cold as metal. Her eyes were merely mirrors, reflecting my own fear. If only I could hold such a complicated thing.

The sun was barely touching the hills and piles of junk. Naomi snatched a few items that caught her eye. It was weird. The way the metallic redolence traveled into my lungs that left it cold and remote. The colliding machines and spinning razors were wrenching jalopies apart. The sound would puncture the sky and I felt my heart tremble. I didn’t know why Naomi liked this damn place anyways. I followed Naomi as she walked toward the sunlit road. The dusty streets were beginning to become faint but such a pretty pale color.

“Where are we going?” I asked again.

“Home.” Naomi’s back was turned to Madeline.

“This isn’t the way home…” I softly replied. The street names were completely different. I could no longer see the junkyard and the barbed wire fences that surrounded it. Just where the hell were we? Naomi stopped in her tracks. I adjusted to her quick halt and looked over her shoulder. I was scared, frantic even. I felt my lungs collapse but my most devoted organ wouldn’t stop slamming against my chest. “Why are we here!” I asked desperately. This is where the screaming sounds of metal were born. I felt the ground shake as the conveyor belt lifted the dingy scraps into the tearing gears. Naomi was standing on edge.

“No strings attached.” Naomi turned and smiled softly. My jaw dropped as the sweat slid toward the shape of my jaw. Her hand…it was out of my clutches into the submerging steel skyline.

Baby, this is just plain puppetry.