A micro-narrative inspired by the short story 'To Serve Man' by Damon Knight

A close shave

 

Do I have to do this? Is this worth it? Is there no other way? Thoughts spiral in my mind as the cold blade touches my skin, sending a shiver down my spine, shaking me awake from the moment. Is this another one of my “teenage tendencies”? As mother always says, “hormones”. 

I remember she once told me that she, too, did it in her teenage years. She did it on impulse, and oh, did she regret it. To this day, she is still nagging about how it left scars on her porcelain skin, like black markers permanently scribbled on a white canvas, and that she would give up anything to turn back time just to stop her teenage self from doing it. I have thought that her words are a bit of a stretch, I mean, give up anything? I would give up anything to blind the eyes of those girls that stare at me from head to toe like I’m some sort of abnormal, freakish creature that arrived on Earth from another planet; I would give up anything to shut the mouths of those boys that scream “hairy beast!” every time they see me like it’s some exorcist spell that would make me vanish into thin air - I hope I could vanish into thin air! Does my mother not understand? She’s excusing this as a teenage tendency while knowing it only started growing when I reached teenagehood. There’s only one thing I can do right now to change it all. 

I feel my chest expand as I inhale the cool bathroom air. Slowly, I work the blade up my arm, blood dripping as it pierces through my skin. It’s all going to be over soon, I tell myself. I turn on the tap, allowing ice-cold water to hit my wounds, hoping that it will wash the scars away. I turn off the tap and exhale. 

Hey, that isn’t bad for my first shave.
 

Annabelle Au
 

The ball is in your court

 

The sun shines bright, beaming its rays of light as cottages shimmer and children play. However, the bright day upon us abruptly shifts to gloom and darkness. A neighbouring dictatorship — a sad excuse for a ‘kingdom’ — commits an act of war. Our nation is at war! Although their attack may have been weak, it is still an act of war! Despite being only a wall dividing our nations, Imadionum will not cower.  

Standing proudly commanding the army of my gracious kingdom. Nothing will enter my motherland. Warding off cannonballs using technology only used by the great Olympians of our accomplished athletes. This loathsome foe will not harm the bright citizens of our advanced civilization. Our army is prepared to die – prepared to sacrifice their life for a cause more crucial than themselves—the enemy kingdom with a soul of black care not about their own people. Unlike ours, the people of Ethanoia shiver in fear as the instability of governance protects only those in power from the rats and plague of the tragically unclean and moist state of their ‘kingdom’. We must save these innocent people — these innocent civilians, from this cruel dictatorship.

I order rescue and assault battalions to quickly advance to the great wall and ambush the nation. The innocent will be saved. Aggress the aggressor as they are now under pressure. This rotten governed nation can stand no more. Our troops flank left and right as they stealth their way past the ignorant military forces of Ethanoia, making their way to the palace run by baboons.

Their chaotic nation is now under new management. A sense of clarity and achievement rushes through my veins. This corrupt nation will harm us no more! I proudly shout, “6-1. Game, set, match Ethan!”.
 

Imad Imran Winton Bin Abdullah