swinney
Random word list:
Saigon
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Word chosen: swinney
Definition: an atrophy of the muscles of the shoulder in horses; also, atrophy of any muscle in horses.
Free association word list:
horse
race
greyhound
skinny
couch potato
fat
lazy
television
TiVo
recording
season pass
too many shows
deletion
removal
vaporized
1984
Winston
Big Brother
love
sex
randy
Earl
Joy
pregnant
labor
birth
baby
toddler
child
teenager
adult
elderly
dead
rotting
bones
dust
Word chosen: Big Brother
Writing:
Charlie ran down the narrow alley as he glanced over his shoulder. This was his fatal mistake. If he had been watching his path, he would have noticed the plastic bucket full of stagnant rain water that lie in wait to trip him at the precise moment of his footfall.
As his foot came down into the bucket, it pitched him forward in a most severe and unnatural angle. Charlie flung his hands out to prevent injury, but only succeeded in impaling his left hand on a large rusty nail whose still-sharp point was reaching for the bleary sky that hung over the entire city of London.
Charlie couldn’t risk crying out in pain, or in stopping. Either action would have gotten him caught by Big Brother’s enforcers, The Ministry of Love. He threw himself to his feet as he yanked the nail from his hand. As he ran off into the darkness, he dropped the nail in the middle of the alley in hopes of escaping.
Charlie managed to reach his flat where he felt safe even though the telescreen broadcast his every movement, and some believed, every thought. As he passed in front of the telescreen, he moved in a slow and methodical manner to avoid revealing his racing heart and bleeding hand.
He made his way to the lavatory where he had some privacy away from eyes of the telescreen. Charlie washed and bandaged his hand as best he could under the stinging cold water that gurgled from the tap. As he was returning to his living room to participate in the daily Two Minutes of Hate, he was jolted by a sudden announcement that blared forth from the telescreen in a very nasal woman’s voice.
“If any medical personnel receive a request for treatment of a puncture wound to the hand, report the request to the Ministry of Love immediately. Thank you. Please stand for the Two Minutes of Hat.”
The announcement had been accompanied by a brief video of Charlie sprawling in the alley, but did not show his face. It also showed a close up photo of the nail that had pierced the flesh of his hand.
Charlie managed to make it through the Two Minutes of Hate with the requisite yelling, frothing, and gesturing at the telescreen before the enormity of what he had done overcame him. He had to tell someone about what he had discovered. He had no proof, of course, but his words should be strong enough to cast doubt on the ever present wisdom, guidance, and compassion that Big Brother claimed to have for all citizens of Oceania.
Charlie never had a chance to tell anyone his discovery. He was watched very closely and never had a chance to confirm his information with his prole contact until their scheduled meeting a week later. Unfortunately, lockjaw set in four days after his encounter with the bucket and subsequent chance meeting with the nail. Charlie managed to stay home and hide from the telescreen and his spying neighbor’s kids who would turn him in just for the reward of a new pair of boots that were hard to get a hold of despite what Big Brother said about over production of leather this quarter.
Charlie was awoken in the middle of the night nine days after his run-in with the deadly bucket and nail one-two combination by intense spasms of his back, arms, and legs. They did not let up, and Charlie was completely unable to scream in pain even though he tried. These spasms lasted until dawn when they finally clawed their way to his barely beating heart and put a stop to it.
Charlie’s last thoughts were ones of relief that it was over, and dismay that Big Brother would continue his reign of terror over the citizens of Oceania.
PS: Yes. I’ve read 1984. Twice. The most recent time was a little over a month ago. This is my first stab at fan-fic. It doesn’t come near Orwell’s genius, but if he were still alive, I would hope that he would read this with a smile and not a frown. I thought about making this longer, but the night is running long, and the morning will come sooner than I like. I hope you enjoyed it.
