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Rated: E · Assignment · Fantasy · #1609461
Inanimate objects have a life of their own, even if forgotten...
I sit in a corner in the attic.  Dust covers my face.  Cobwebs hand from my ribs.  Years have passed since I last had human contact.  But I wait patiently for them to return and give purpose to my life.

The door opens and a ray of light penetrates the gloom.  I hear voices!  Dust rises as they approach my hiding spot, but I am not afraid.  Strong hands grasp my sides, pick me up, and carry me outdoors into the bright sunlight.

A rumble of movement, and I find myself in a new place.  Gentle hands wipe the grime from my face.  I feel the familiar tingle of electrons ans they move through my circuits and life flows through me.  An inkling of memory tickles at my connections as familiar cords are attached, and I am reunited with an old friend.

rapt faces of the children gaze at me from their seats on the floor.  Mother looks on from the couch, a bowl of popcorn perched on her lap.  Father adjusts the picture with my small control box and takes his placed in the overstuffed recliner at the back of the room.

Visions flow across my face.  Colors blend into hues that I scarcely recollect.  But it takes mere seconds for me to remember the joy of the images.  A flood of emotions thrills me.  Laughter fills the night, and I am happy.

After hours, the children wander off to their beds to dream and live in the pictures I brought to them.  Mother makes her way to the kitchen and I hear her washing the dishes from the evening meal.  Father touches controls again, and I find myself in shock at the changes in the world.

The earlier humor and fun are replaced by sadness and terror.  A child is missing.  A mother was killed in a car accident.  A little boy is lost and all alone in the woods.  A bank was robbed.  Our military men and women are away from home and family, giving their lives in a foreign land.  The weather is hot.  The Titans won their game against Atlanta. I am confused.

What happened to the good things?  Who are these Titans they speak of?  How did we end up with so much sorrow and so much pain?  Why is that all that I see?  It makes me angry!  I feel my circuits heating up, melting down.  Wafts of smoke rise from my back.  Father jumps from his chair and rushes over.  Darkness settles over my face.

"Well honey," he calls to the kitchen, "Looks like that old television of dads wasn't any good after all.  I'll have to get a new one from Wal-Mart this weekend."

"Ok." she agreed.  "The kids won't be happy, but they can wait a few more days."

"I'll put this one out by the curb with the other one."  He replied.  "No point in trying to fix it; it's too old and outdated."

© Copyright 2009 Caitlan Durante (tehklah at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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