Stuck On You

Stuck On You

“Pull it!”

Chaos surrounded Clem. Shoots went off. Fire erupted. Shouts echoed through the corridors. A cacophony machine gunned off every surface, driving Clem further into her huddle.

She gasped, and choked, and struggled to breathe. All control was gone from her. Clem had no action, no agency. Her limbs wouldn’t respond. She could only sit and rock back and forth behind the barricade.

“Shoot her! Shoot her now!”

“Pull it!”

“Damn it, pull that thing!”

Clem held tight to the controller in her lap. Her arms around her knees and head. She didn’t want to be here. The screams were too much. The blasts and the bullets were threatening. Her position was about to be overrun but she didn’t care. She couldn’t move.

A hand grabbed Clem on the arm only to fall away. When she looked up the limb was on the ground but its owner was nowhere.

Clem crab walked away, trying to push further into the barricade. Deafened by the noise she couldn’t hear her own scream. Or the clatter as the controller slipped from her lap. 

She was moving. That was all that mattered. First backwards, now on her hands and knees. Getting away. Going as fast and as low as she could from everything out there. Clem’s only motivation to run.

She didn’t hear the final call. The last demand - “Pull it!”


Today’s art is courtesy of Ryan Talbot from Irvine, USA.

Not Always Practical

Not Always Practical

We Are Not... So What Are We

We Are Not... So What Are We