Strong Silent Type

(From Prompt 28/02/2023)

Quenntis

Feb 28, 2023

I love it when I find a prompt that really calls out to me as this one did. This story draft was written in response to Heather Huffman’s Daily Prompt for February 28, 2023:

Write a story or poem that starts with “The zipper on my mouth has rusted.”

Consider subscribing to Heather’s Sprinkled Inspiration Newsletter if you’re looking for a prompt to spark a story or a poem.

Strong Silent Type

the zipper on my mouth has rusted! I try to say to my darling wife, then to my children, and finally to my dog, Albert - but nobody understands my frantic mumblings because nobody sees the zipper, and when I point to my firmly shut mouth, they are confused and bombard me with questions I cannot answer because I am legally obligated to not disclose anything to anyone

“Why are you giving me the silent treatment again, David? I’m your wife, for God’s sake. Stop mumbling at me and tell me what’s going on with you, with us, with this family?”

“Daddy, we love you. Don’t you love us?”

“Woof?”

my mouth has rusted shut? I mumble again to the mirror as I watch the frozen line of my interlocking lips stay frozen - behind my lips my crooked teeth creak in panic as my braces continue to tighten up as the rust spreads even further - and I think is this how cancer works, too? invading the body like an invisible rust from the inside?

even after application of cooking oil and a flathead screwdriver; the result is just more bruises on my face, and a continued silence, even as I drop my terrified kids off at school and my wife back at home - and as the rust continues to spread faster through my tongue and down my throat, every time I breathe I swallow razor blades and barbed wire - they didn’t tell me how much the process would hurt, or how fast it would move

please consider the pain I am in when I eventually make it to work to hand in my immediate resignation for obvious reasons - only to be greeted by more questions and accusations; people get more aggressive and I fear for my fading life

“Why didn’t you give us proper notice?”

“This is unacceptable behavior, David!”

“We know what you’re up to!”

on the way to my new home I close my eyes for a few seconds of tearful rest in the car, I was naive to believe I had enough time to put my affairs in their proper order - but now I’ve made things worse as the zippers on my eyes have also rusted - I am blind, and I will soon be deaf to the world as each zipper guarding the nine gates of my body rusts firmly shut to initiate the second phase of the transformation, I don’t have much time left - I struggle to move as fluidly as I once did - memories of being a good athlete at school mean nothing when you’re turning into a monster

I leave the car where I stopped it

my family find me in the park, my favorite place in the whole world - and they watch me as I slowly make my way up to and onto the empty pedestal that has my name on it - I am drawn to it like iron to a magnet, and the loud voice in my head gives me instructions that my body follows automatically like the machine it is becoming

only once I am stripped of my clothes can I strike the right combination of poses to unzip each of the zippers - at last I can see and I can hear the large crowds of people applauding and cheering, including my shocked wife and children - I hear her phone notification bell ringing as the money I am earning starts to pour in

“David, why didn’t you tell me you were going to do this?”

“Daddy, we love you.”

Albert whined and then lifted a leg to pee.

if only I could reach out a hand to comfort my family one more time - but it is too late now - I am going through my poses automatically again, programmed to keep doing so as my body continues to change into my ultimate metal form

I remember the terms of my contract with Statuesque Inc

“We pay our biomechanical statue hybrids the highest salaries. Your wife and children will never want for anything as long as you’re posing on that pedestal as programmed.”

this is the only way I can provide for their futures, and I know my sacrifice will be worth it, especially after my sudden stage four pancreatic cancer diagnosis - without enough medical insurance I didn’t have long to live anyway, and now I get to live however long this oxidation process will take for my body to rust into one final pose

my weight shifts onto my right leg while my left foot remains relaxed, my right hand rests on my right thigh while my left hand moves towards my face which looks up with a frown of concentration

I wonder how long it will take for the other pedestals to fill with statues like me, or will I be the only weatherbeaten biomechanical pioneer the pigeons get to shit on?

people watch me quietly pose as I watch them pass, and I think I am still here

Something you can do upon reaching THE END of this free story:

Heart “Strong Silent Type” to make my heart beat a little faster. 😊

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