Journal of anime ramblings, fiction works and reflections
I don’t know what unnerved me more: the greasy, rough hands of the human holding me, or how dangerously low he hung me before the rotating knives of the shredder.
I’d much rather be crumpled and tossed in the already overflowing bin of discarded paper works and Styrofoam coffee cups. I was trembling. I’d never felt fear until today. I was finally free from the printer, relieved from the burden of other papers stacked on me. And now, this injustice. I wanted to go back to being another useless sheet on the printing tray. I wanted to go back into the stifling confines of my Double A home.
He moved me away, and for a second, a light feeling of hope and gratitude consumed me. He was going to have mercy. He looked me over, a moment’s consideration in his hard, beady eyes before he clicked his tongue and moved me back to the shredder.
I would scream, but my wailing crinkles didn’t translate as such. He ignored my protests. Humans never cared. We didn’t matter. We were just paper to be discarded. There was so much of us, anyway.
I braced myself and felt the first few stings of the knife, piercing my delicate frame. He stopped and pulled me up. Was this some sort of sadistic game?
I waited, the whirring of the shredder disrupting the weighty silence. Without preamble, he lowered me again. Fully. And that was the end of me.