Objects 🚲

December 42nd ‪1:36 a.m.‬

I was walking down the street, on the side walk. Or I think that's what they are called. I always feel like they are all watching me. But I kept walking. I stopped to see a doll on the ground. I picked it up, it had blonde hair, and a pink and white poke-a-dotted dress on. I held it, touched it, examined it, and carefully put it into my backpack, like it was a living species. It was, to me. I could now check that off my list, a list of everything, a list that will contain every object I discover.

I kept walking. Where I was going I did not know. I passed an alley way. I heard what was probably screams. Of things that might need help. I kept walking. I was built to help. But now I don't care as much as I used to. Some other object could help them.

I entered a building. A yellow lit up sign at the entrance said "Sleep or Charge" that sounded good right about now. I was getting tired. An object sat on a chair behind a desk.
"You look like you need a charge young man" the object told me. It had short brown hair to its shoulders and a short yellow dress. A red flower made of some sort of metal was pinned in it's hair. I nodded.
"Two pecks then honey." I took off my backpack and rummaged through all my discoveries. I had no pecks till just a few hours ago when I found six just laying on the ground. That was very lucky. I handed two to the thing. It seemed like a female, so that's what I decided to call it. Pecks were brownish white little blocks, the size of a nut, sometimes smaller. I did not know where they came from, but they popped up once and a while. The female took the pecks and shoved them into a drawer, and gave me a room key.
"Number 24, there should be a charger in there already, good night."

I kept walking once again. That's what I do. I walk. That's what we are known for. It used to be help, but times have changed. My room was normal. Red covers on the bed, red curtains, golden and red colored wallpaper. I didn't like it. I laid down on the bed, wishing I could feel what it felt like. From the night stand I picked up a black cord. I opened a patch on my chest and plugged it in. It was time for me to charge. I would shut down, and by morning be full of energy to last a a couple of years. In those years I would keep walking, I would keep discovering, objects would stare at me, laugh at me, or hurt me. Until something different happens, this journal will stay half full, or half empty.