From c97f77d2550e8b6fb24209fc6e8961d4bda76be1 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Andrew Date: Wed, 4 Jan 2023 22:20:04 +0800 Subject: Poem and whiskers fiction --- article/dream-of-the-whisker.html | 54 +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 1 file changed, 54 insertions(+) create mode 100755 article/dream-of-the-whisker.html (limited to 'article/dream-of-the-whisker.html') diff --git a/article/dream-of-the-whisker.html b/article/dream-of-the-whisker.html new file mode 100755 index 0000000..d58ddbf --- /dev/null +++ b/article/dream-of-the-whisker.html @@ -0,0 +1,54 @@ + + + + Dream of the Whisker + + + + + +

Dream of the Whisker

Article ID: 12*

I scratched my paws on my face and whiskers—it hurts a bit, but I +know I’ll be healed soon. It’s yet another morning, in my +beautifully-decorated cage—full of bright lights, gleaming gold, and +endless piles of canned food. The steel bars on the sides have became +exceedingly cold. I looked outside, into a rather warm living room, by +the creatures who called themselves, Homo sapiens. Their +laughter comes into my left ear and out the right. Laughter—something +that I would never be able to experience with confidence. Crawling back +to my comfortable enclosure, I waited.

Usually, around this time the humans would deliver me water and milk, +along with opening some canned food for me to enjoy in my warm +and fluffy bed. “Children”, namely young humans, would come and play +with me, often taking weird photos of me with what they call a “phone”, +saying that I’m “cute”. I honestly have no idea what these mean, but I +guess it’s nice that I could bring them some fun. Now it’s been a while +and they still haven’t came. My intuition tells me that something has +changed. Only now did I realize, that what I feared has been true, all +along.

Humans do not care about me—as a cat—as a fellow conscious creature. +I gazed off into the distant field, out side of their windows. Warm, +green, and endless. I imagined having a friend, a real friend, to enjoy +my last moments in this world, in the warm sunshine. I imagined freedom, +the freedom to walk outside this prison.

I was in my dreams when a cold hand grabbed me by the leg. I leaned +forward, trying to escape the iron grip. But all was futile. Everything +blurred into a point, full of misery, and full of pain. Screaming, I was +taken to a room. Blinded by the fluorescent lights atop the ceiling, I +have chosen to accept my fate. I turned away, twisting my paws strapped +onto the chair, my whiskers embedded in the soft cotton. I did not want +to witness it.

My heart begins to slow down. My heart beats the last beat, and my +neurons fire the last impulse. As I fall into the singularity of +entropy, time ceases to exist. The laws of physics have always been +eternal, but the universe—my universe—has became static and +never-changing. I now do not fear, I won’t fear … I +cannot fear.

I just wonder, what I have left behind.

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