The Grind. Flash Fiction.

The snow hit! Woke up to about 9cm of snow outside and it’s still snowing on and off, seems like we’re in a bit of a break for the moment but it’ll start again in another few hours! And the worst is still yet to come, looking forward to the potential blizzards tomorrow, apparently hasn’t been a blizzard in the country since the 80’s. Super excited, absolutely love snow and we barely get any!

Hope everyone is keeping warm and safe where ever they are!

____________________________________

Olivia took a deep breath, enjoying the coppery tang of blood in the air. It always reminded her of being a young girl and the days when her mother would bring her into work, explaining how each part of the machine worked and what it did. The machine was running as fast as it could, clinking and groaning as it strained to go faster. The conveyor belt moved quickly, moving the dazed and unconscious people into the machine where they’d be disassembled both for food and parts. The people on the conveyor were strapped down to ensure they couldn’t escape, should they have a change of mind. The company was quite generous in its benefit packages to loved ones and they guaranteed it would be painless. The bodies would move through the machine, important parts, like blood and organs, would be separated from the less important. Anything that was less important was ground up and sold as animal feed and sometimes used to bulk out foods for human consumption. Olivia’s job was easy, monitor the machine and the conveyor belt, make sure nothing became jammed and no one escaped and if any problems arose she was to fix it, any means necessary. It happened sometimes, people changing their mind and somehow working their way free, usually when they realised there wouldn’t be any anaesthetic. Just last week a man had freed himself from his restraints and rolled to the side, he’d been ripped into the giant cogs and crushed, well, smeared would be more accurate. Olivia had spent two hours cleaning up the worst of the gunk and they had to hose the rest of him off in the end. Olivia didn’t care why the people were here, suicide, political prisoners, it was all the same to her. She was paid well and she loved her job, below someone still conscious let out a brief shrill scream before the machine chewed them up completely. Olivia looked at the gauges and readouts in front of her, she smiled in satisfaction, everything was going smoothly.

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About Alan James Keogh

I am a 26 year old writer who somehow tricked U.C.D. into giving me not only a degree in English and Classical studies, but an Hons Masters in Creative Writing too. Visit my blog where I post short stories twice a week (Monday and Wednesday) and an installment of a serialised novel on Fridays. I did consider writing this in the third person, as though it was written by someone else, but Alan is not comfortable writing in the third person as it seems kinda creepy and unbalanced so Alan decided it was probably best to write in the first person. He hopes it went well for him.
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One Response to The Grind. Flash Fiction.

  1. Pingback: Writers showcase, March 1, 2018 – The Write Edge Writing Workshop by Ekta R. Garg

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