The magnanimous trap tank sits there like a viking, waiting for me, a goat, to fall in the trap and submissively become another star in the sky.
A glass tank, with water filled to the top, leaving no room for the atmosphere seemed like a Guillotine in itself; where the heads of noblemen were once slayed.
I head towards it, steadily, firmly. A few of my crewmembers arrange the chains. One for my hands, one for ankles and another one which chains my neck to both of them. It was all chained up, literally.
I glance up to the ceiling, the spotlights making my eyes glossy. I give a lopsided grin and…..
The clock starts to tick. 4 minutes 59 seconds
Inside the tank, it feels gloomy. More like one of those days when you break up with someone important to you and every corner of the hustled city seems lonely somehow. Yes, that type of gloomy.
My eyes open wide. My hair are afloat, making monstrous creatures of their own kind. I’m stone cold, but my body feels light, almost as if I’m not more than a feather. For a moment, this is where i want to be- somewhere so deep, so pristine even the problems are foreseen.
But the stupid ticking machine wakes me up from the dreams of serenity.
“I must get out of the tank”
I could barely see the clock but a part of me is certain that i was running short of time. Its either now or never. And if not now, the guests will take home the amazing scene of piranhas feeding upon my wrenched soul their way back home.
I try unchaining myself as i battle my lashes. It almost feels like my brows are knitted, and soon my skin goes white. I nibble on my bottom lip, as a muscle in my jaw twitched. I couldnt unchain myself yet. The audience were on their feet, waiting and screaming, somehow trying to motivate me probably. It seems like only a minute is left for me.
Running short of breath, the big bubbles of my despair and efforts floated upwards. I gasp for air, and soon enough my vision goes blurry. I feel like a toddler- wailing, with my hands and legs all over the place, disoriented. The only difference is that i chose to do this. I figure out the piranhas in the cage right above my tank gradually started coming near. I crave the audience’s attention to move over, to vessel into my character’s eye, and to feel the struggle.
My hands go numb. Indeed, it is gloomy in here. But i liked gloomy. I have always liked dark. It has always meant to be for me.
I submissively stop my attempts of unchaining.
What a perfect day- away from the curse of monotony, away from the judgement, away from the hassles of survivalism.
The cage above me opens. It’s their feast time!
~To Be Continued~