Nineteen Eighty-Hare

{Originally posted on Adam P Knave}

I leaned heavily against a wall. Trying to catch my breath was a mistake but I couldn’t keep running. I just couldn’t. “BIG RABBIT IS, WE SAY IS, SON ARE YOU LISTENING, BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU” was painted along the wall. How they found space for the lettering I don’t know.

I found the strength to keep moving.

The thing of it was, I didn’t have the heat on me. No one was after me and I could’ve just gone back home. But after what I saw that night, after that, I just couldn’t. I found what they did to Porky. Poor bastard.

Technically they took him to ask a few questions. Technically he had decided to move to another city. Technically… a lot of things. This night someone had left me a key to a door I didn’t know existed, and it was there I found him. Well, films of him, anyway.

Stripped naked in a cage of rats, he squirmed and squealed like, well, to be fair, a pig. I’m not sure why I was given the key, the directions, shown what I was shown but I had a feeling…

For weeks now I kept a journal. A journal of my thoughts and dreams. Stuff that I wasn’t supposed to have, much less think. It must have been found. So I ran. I ran though no one actively seemed to pursue me. I ran to find my love. Marvin. Oh, how his helmet shined in the light. He wasn’t from around here, as it turned out. Despite what we were told. He said the wars were fake. He said he loved me. He said we’d be safe.

Damn it, I couldn’t break down in tears. Not yet. Not until…

Our front door was open. Just the tiniest bit but enough to notice. I went in anyway, what else could I do? Inside I found nothing. They had taken him. I knew I would be next. I had earned it. I looked behind me and saw that I was being followed. Followed by my own weaknesses this whole time.

They came for me then. They re-educated me. They reminded me that duck season is rabbit season, thinking you saw a puddy tat is seeing a puddy tat, and that freedom is slavery.

In the end, I walked out, on my own. On. My. Own. As we all were. Monsters like me, Gossamer, we don’t meet interesting people. Not if we’re smart.

Featured by Story Editor Shannon | @MrLady

Adam P Knave is a freelance writer of blogs, fiction, comics and columns. Find Adam P Knave on Amazon here, and his original post on his blog, Adam P Knave {dot} com.
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4 Comments to “Nineteen Eighty-Hare”

  1. Mr Lady
    Twitter:
    says:

    I will never, ever not love this, Adam. Good god, thank you for letting us share it.

  2. Mr Lady says:

    If I could do it with a blog post, today's @StoryBleed would be worth every virtual papercut. 198Hare, by @adampknave http://bit.ly/feEzPz

  3. Mr Lady says:

    A little Monday afternoon brilliance for you on @storybleed today. 198Hare, by @adampknave http://bit.ly/feEzPz

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