Fiction

The loud screeching sound of the metal scratching against each other is unnerving, like peeling off a piece of dry skin from the body, only to discover the horror that it’s gone too far. The mornings are busy, full of the chaotic hustle of people looking to get ahead of the day. The concept of time for everyone on the chain is relative to the comfort of the day. Some days are long, full of work, and those are good days, while some days are short, spent mining through the landfill of junk that might be of some value to someone. On days like these that the people of the chain wonder whether time could go back and they would change their decision to remain on the chain. Though Life does not come with a rewind button, no matter how much we try to make it happen. The layers and layers of landfill full of electronic and technological waste were surrounded by ten-storey housing projects that once belonged to the working class. The project has seen better days. The entrances were boarded off, only for the people to carve an entrance into them. Once inside, there was no direction for any specific apartment, and it was a miracle that the people were able to make it up and down the stairs. A perfect metaphor of the times when the once-thriving working-class community lay in ruins only for the people to turn it into a home, as much as they can. Eon lived on the top floor and had been a permanent resident of the projects since his birth. Never ventured out to the far lands to even witness the destruction of the world as he knew beyond the chain. He had no interest in intruding on the other side, where the people pretended nothing ever happened. “The suffering only goes away with the sufferer, and I intend to see it through to the end.” ...