We Are The Obscelete

• Emily Vosinthavong, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2013

Lentenint’s face furrowed beneath the tight mask that enclosed all Obsolete, his striking green eyes took notice to the alley behind him, broken at the chains and unaffected by the colours of the street. Taking slow, indefinite steps towards the gate began to lace his thoughts with curiosity. Curiosity? What IS curiosity?
A young woman woke him from his daze completely content with ignoring him. Should he be forcing her into the room? What point would that make? Lentenint, stood engrossed by his thoughts before deciding to stride away.
What is she doing? Hum, attractive with blonde hair and blue eyes. Common but will do for her.
Her steps etched with stiff and even beats. Though her eyes, blue like the salt lake they were threatened with, shone dim as if her mind was not present.
The lights are on but no one’s home. He thought bitterly about how the young children would tease him before he was branded with the hot iron. No point in denying the unknown. A small vibration coursed through his body reverberating beneath the heavily cladded armour that defined him. It erupted inside of him as he entered the pitch black gate. It was as if his body was compelled to move forwards, away from the woman, from Stallion.
What he saw shocked him to the very core.
Women danced on stages, sultry smiles etched on their faces, hips moving suggestively at the onslaught of goggling eyes. Lights bounced effortlessly of the glimmering fragments of the walls, brighter than any light he had seen. Men hollered and clapped profusely at the women who refused to tear themselves from the bright lights. What had caught Lentenint the most was their smiles.
What is this place? All I feel like doing is taking that woman behind his thoughts. Stallion allows this? They must know we aren’t allowed these vibrations! Woman! How can they? This isn’t allowed! They can’t do this; what if they get caught? The voice threatened to appear but the medium could not express it.
He was helpless, his thoughts, opinions, ethics, everything he had ever known were intent on expressing themselves. Tears welled in his eyes as his breathing became rapid. Stallion crept into his thoughts, corrupting his information system. If I don’t get out of here, I’ll short circuit soon. Women passed by him offering themselves with a roll of their hips while men ushered him to come forward.
I must go back to my post! This is corrupt, you cannot deny Stallion. PLEASE! He tried to express his thoughts but he could not rush any sound out. He became a blubbering mess before the image of the heavily bearded and steel gazed man came into his system. Stallion is the essence of my soul. He thought, before the man before him fell down, blood pouring down his chest and eyes bulging as if he was a fish out of water.