Another very short story that I wrote. It's a little weird
This cold and lonely place has become my prison for the past five years. Spending five years alone can take its toll on a person.
Well, I'm not completely alone. There's also Harry, but he doesn't say much of anything. All he does is huddle in the corner, not moving a single inch. Sometimes I question whether or not he's still alive. But he is still living.
If you were to ask him why he stays in the corner, unmoving, he would answer, "I am an orange. If I move I will burst and my juices will leak."
Actually, that's the ONLY thing he says. He repeats the statement as if to make it true. Whether he's saying it to me, himself, or no one at all, I don't know. Well, I don't remember seeing him eat a single thing since we've been in here. Maybe he's living off photosynthesis from the minimal sunlight we actually get in here?
I, on the other hand, have been without food for several days, and it is agonizing. Our food stores have run dry almost half a week ago, and I fear death from starvation.
Times like these can make a man do horrendous things...
I approach Harry, who is still curled up in his corner. It's either you or me, Harry...
I take a satisfyingly large bite, and I fearfully think to myself how delicious it is. I continue to bite, and bite, and bite, and bite...
Still, Harry moves not an inch of himself. Instead, he continues to repeat his mantra as if it's the only thing keeping him in this world.
"I am an orange. If I move, I will burst and my juices will leak. I am an orange. If I move, I will burst and my juices will leak. I am an orange..."
Eventually, I even steal his voice away from him, and all that came forth were harsh gargles and spurts.
Harry was right about a few things, though. He moved, and he did burst and the juices did leak...everywhere. Scattered about the room were the remains of the being who was known as Harry.
But if there's one thing I'll remember about Harry, it's that he didn't taste anything like an orange.
Then you realize... That there is no loli. And it's not the loli you're molesting, it's yourself.