That Which Lay In Our Pockets*

*This is a creative piece by Carraway Best; unlike our other articles, which are written in AP style, the title for this piece is capitalized to demonstrate stylistic liberties 


Not a single star shined in the night, and the only light to guide me was emitted by an evil I was oblivious to. I grimaced as the hundreds of thousands of eyes shrouded me in a wicked light. But the contrast between the uncertainty of the sky’s darkness and the reassuring radiance of its glare forced me only closer to the thing. As I neared, I could feel a horrid, unsettling fever passing from the depths of its bowels into my very own flesh. This was a sensation that made me writhe in a foreign disgust. A disgust that I knew could never be elicited from a being of a god’s creation. 

No, this beast was separate from any other that was born of nature and roamed the Earth as it was intended. The siren was a denizen of somewhere I had never been, yet  somehow it must have crawled its way from its Shenzhen forge to here, now regrettably in my presence. Its appearance was rigid with an off-putting objection to the organic curves apparent in all typical life. It had a vibrant color that was wickedly perfect and operated with a precision that could never be achieved by any mortal man. It was undeniably clear that this was not the product of anything divine, it was the result of man and his thirst for progress. And still the creature lacked the endearing vulnerabilities that humans and animals alike share.

All of this dawned on me in an overwhelming realization. My fresh comprehension of the growing hypnotic effects nearly drove me to insanity, nevertheless my madness was in vain, for it was already far too late. The monster revealed its true intentions and its hold was inexorable. The abductor grasped me with slender arms that seemed to span every nook and crevice of the waking world. And before long even in my dreams I couldn’t evade its dreadful clutches. The foulness of it haunted me with an indifference to time, environment, or company.

I had become a slave to the beast: shackled to whatever it’s will may be. I found myself toiling at any whim it desired, regardless of personal inclination. The thing had enraptured my hands to do its bidding day in and day out, until I had become accustomed to the ritual. It was nightly routine for me to attach the grotesque umbilical cord and in turn, revitalize its tyranny. My face became awash with its toxicity, and my fingers had learned the drudgery required of me as a second nature. Occasionally a strident groan would erupt from its hollow throats and awaken me from this compliant lull. Even so, this savage monarch, which I feared with all my being, eventually controlled my every thought with its relentlessly imposing authority. 

The evil’s vengeful reign didn’t end with me, it plagued nearly every single person’s existence. The jovial laughter of a room full of happy people, conversing amongst each other, was now replaced with a horrific scene. People were dead to the world, consumed by the thing’s demands, and unaware of the once beautiful place that surrounded them. Humankind even turned on one another to serve the beast’s persuasive beckon. It was as if people were no longer present. They were there, next to me, but their eyes were empty and their souls possessed- embalmed by nothing except vague recollections of the entity’s grim impact. This monstrosity that man constructed, in the hope that it could revolutionize humanity, now devastated it.