The Construction - The Masterpiece
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The sounds of the cogs and pistons chatter.


The Factory's call is agonizing.


But its progress is inevitable. The wails of begging women and children shall never breach these insulated walls. One-by-one, we few survivors continue to man the levers and grapple from atop the pulleys, just to bide our time for any chance of escape.

The Factory remains efficient. An unstoppable creature towering over the weak and frail; all in pursuit of the unattainable. Those of us deceived by its awe will never again atone for such mistakes. I, myself, have seen many try — but repentance can never be achieved by the mere dangling of a rope or an empty prayer.

We few who have not been chained and bound for our attempts of freedom have been locked away in chambers — tossed aside until we are needed again to continue the Factory's labor. The Wardens have done well in entrapping us; only the strongest have been able to survive off their smuggled goods.

It has been too long since I've seen the outside. The faint glimpses of graying hair never seems to escape my sights, no matter what I try.

I must escape.

This prison only sees me for my labor, but never for my talents. My brothers and sisters beyond these walls know of my predicament. I have faith that they are waiting, burning down the world's scum and destroying our institutionalized brain-rot as they prepare for my return.

Behind the safety of these cemented walls, I continue the construction, my masterpiece. Salvaging all of the materials my weakened body can carry — my work is built from the ground up. Chunks of miscellaneous parts are fastened and glued together by a central metal endoskeleton, providing an adequate frame for the material to remain suspended as I worked. It was not much longer until the piece's massive size extended well beyond my reach, indicating that its time had soon come.

I begin to scour upward and into my art — its hollowed core providing little room for me to squirm into. As I try to force myself inside, the joints in my ankle contort and snap as I shove the weight of my body downward. I suppress the urge to scream and continue inching my way closer towards the floor. The rough edges of my construction dig deep incisions into my legs and face, with the weight crushing my pelvis and ribcage. My breathing goes ragged as the bones in my fingers shatter. Blood seeps into the nooks and crannies of dried cement, and what remains of my bitten tongue falls to the floor.

The pain is almost unbearable, but I must not forget my goals. With a muffled grunt I begin to seal the hole I used to crawl inside, truly becoming one with this magnificent creation. I am aware that this decision has its consequences, but I cannot afford to second-guess myself now. With everything set in motion, I can only continue my work in secret, and hope that these Wardens may never become any wiser to my plan.

It is working.

The first Warden was an easy target — no sooner had he turned his back did he fall limp to the floor. I seized that opportunity to inch closer out of my cell — before being greeted by the next two Wardens outside. Their fearful and puzzled looks imbued me with such ecstasy; by the time they closed their eyes it was already too late!

My progress continued for what felt like eternity. Faster and faster I navigated the halls and cell blocks of the Factory. Turning at every corner, I was greeted by the faces of all those who sought to enslave me. Each now dropping like flies to a swatter — every crack they made sent waves of euphoria deep into my fractured bones. I hadn't imagined vengeance would feel this good, but then again I suppose it was only fitting.

The exit, it was just beyond my reach. The final Warden stood menacingly — his eyes staring back at mine in angry desperation. The two of us stood frozen in place. Stuck inside of each others gaze. He was afraid — that I was sure of. After all, surely the others I've freed would soon follow behind me.

The Warden's face began to contort into self-pity. Tears formed in the blackened corners of his eyes. His stare could only last so much longer — he knew that his time had come. The moment he wavered, that would be his final act. Just as he realizes his sins, and turns to flee from the magnificent display of our rage and anger — when the few of us still remaining finally follow in my footsteps. Yes… that will be my moment.


The sounds of desperate workers in ragged boots are fast approaching.


His gaze is continuing to falter.


He never even saw it coming.

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