Oxygen thief

A Story by 12.09am

A short story delving into the world of magic realism

A small single sunshine Yellow playing block lay on the bare white carpet of the living room a meter left of the open window. The soft afternoon sun filtered through the stained glass window like golden dust settling into the room, touching it with warmth and light. The room’s senses became alive, rising and falling with each breath, contracting and retracting as more light filtered through. The light covered the bare white floor, warming up anything in its pathway turning it into a beaming object of life. The limbs of the yellow block were filled with warmth as the sunlight gradually engulfed its figure; its stiff posture loosened, stretching itself out and relaxing its tight muscles as it sunken figure rose off the carpet. Leaving behind an in-print that lurked like a creature of the night. Bending backwards it removed the tightly wound knots in its back, unwinding them with short finger nails and stiff hands. With a crack and a pop, then there were 2. 2 yellow blocks perfectly content in the bare breathing room stretching out in the warm afternoon sun, and then there were 4 yellow blocks on the living room floor, 8, 16, 32, 64, 128, 256. Perfect, Pristine and Polished they replicated one after the other, just as perfect as the last. Jumping about the room with energy, like popping candy exploding in your mouth, then finally settling down into their designated spot, like children in bunk-beds. 256 yellow blocks laid in their bunk beds in a specific formula of replication. With sheets pulled right up to their chins they waited for their bedtime stories to send them off to sleep, all alive, warm, happy and united, except for 1.

1 block broke the pattern, it lay on a diagonal angle, closed off and hidden from the sunlight. 1 black block lurked in the shadows, stiff, stubborn and structured. 2 black blocks, 4, 8, 16, 128, 156, 256. They soon emerged, taking their true form with evil smirking smiles , eradicating any sight of the pristine white floor. As afternoon turned to dusk, the black blocks emerged from their comfort in the shadows, diverging amongst the darkness of the room, the savage creatures came to life, quickly crawling around the room, consuming any yellow blocks in their way. Multiplying by the second, they took control, 256, 512, 1024.

The ill-minded creatures invaded the room, as the yellow blocks grew weak without sunlight, becoming frail and crippled as the night progressed. The savage creatures hunted them down, invading the whole room, turning them to the dark side one by one, to the point there was not a spec of yellow to be seen in the entire room.

That once pure, living, room was my left lung.

It began as a single cell with an evil motive, which replicated and replicated again and again. It emerged from its pocket hidden in the spongy wall of my lung on a mission to manipulate cells to transfer to the dark side. It travelled in a heavy coat of disguise through the pathways of goodness, leaving behind a thick black trail of bubbling substance. A mixture of viscous liquid and solid components began slowly creeping up the walls and seeping further into the absorbent sponge with every slow step. A heaving noise of struggle echoed through the tunnels as the liquid grew and eradicated anything in its pathway. It came across a vulnerable, weak and shivering cell, feeding it with darkness it began to output the viscous liquid alongside the other, soon joined by another 2, then 8, 16, 32. 32 evil cells diverging along the spongy tubes, suffocating them of their oxygen. Before I knew it there was thousands. Taking over the role of happiness, they manipulated it to the point it was nothing but dark and ill-minded. The evil creatures made more friends by the second, playing hopscotch along my ribcage, and hide and seek in the tissues of my lung, they consumed it with their games, till there was no happy cells left to do their job. I call them the oxygen thief’s. They turn to the darkness and lurk in the shadows, multiplying by the minute and then they attack, taking out all the goodness, capturing the air in their little sacs and running away into the night.

© 2016 12.09am

Author's Note

The concept may be slightly long winded to grasp. Incase you're struggling to understand the metaphor, the blocks that multiply are representative of cancer cells and their replication.