Short Story-thing 3

Object Personification

I remember waking up to darkness and movement. I was disoriented and a bit afraid of what the scenario could be. There were voices around me, human voices, which could only mean one thing: I had been bought and taken to a house. The fear disappeared and happiness coursed through me like a lightning bolt.

I made friends straight away. The cupboards were very friendly. I felt right at home thanks to them, and they helped me understand some things that have allowed me a very peaceful existence so far. My best friend is the plastic water jar. We hit it off right away after we found out neither of us was going anywhere. To be honest, at first I didn’t want to talk to her, because I didn’t want to like her and then have her taken away, but she explained that the only reason they could have to take her was to refill her, so that was good.

Unfortunately, not everyone is friendly. I am scared of the oven. I feel very lucky that he isn’t right next to me, we are complete opposites. He is heat and I am cold, and he is an evil appliance who actually enjoys it when the family puts something inside of him and he gets to kill them.

One thing I reluctantly had to accept, was that no matter how many things the family put in me, it would be best if I didn’t interact with the ones who were only there for a short time, because they could be taken at any time and never be heard from again. After all, they were what the family needed for sustenance. I made the mistake of befriending a tomato once, until he was taken away one morning, and a few minutes later he returned with half his body cut off.

Please, don’t hate my owners, we all have things we need to do if we want to stay alive, and they’re doing just that. They take good care of me. Whenever there’s a stain on my exterior, they immediately clean it, and they use the product I like, the one that makes my silver exterior shine. Or when someone accidentally spills inside of me, they make sure I’m just as white inside as I was before.

I have learned that my life is bittersweet, and I’m okay with that. I’d rather be alive and bittersweet than being dead in a junkyard and forgotten.