Word to Story: Disposal

It was raining outside and yet the neighborhood children were playing. They were laughing and jumping in puddles. Some ran around in rain coats, while others with umbrellas. While the rain drops were loud as they hit windows, houses, cars, the laughter of the children was louder. While the puddles muddied the streets, they brought a place to play. All the children were playing. All but one, that is. Why? Well, it was Disposal Day.

Every year for the past few centuries, a tradition took place. A ceremony to some, but a burden to others. You see, dear reader, Disposal Day was just as the name implied. However, it was more twisted than just a day to take out the trash. If it were, young Cooper would be playing with his friends. What made Disposal Day twisted and a burden was a concept that everyone knew all too well. The children feared the reason and it is what caused Cooper’s dismay. Disposal Day was disposing of the unnesscary. And that meant Cooper had to go.  

It’s not like Cooper wanted to be disposed. It’s just that his exsistence was no longer required. Despite his friends disagreeing with this statement, the adults in his life did not seem to mind. Even his parents who, up until recently, told him how much they loved him practically hourly. This was the real source of his dismay. He thought his parents would have cared. He thought when push came to shove, they would’ve fought to keep him. However, when they got the letter in the mail, they did nothing. His mother simply sighed and said, “Well I guess I better start on his room.” All his father did was pat him on the shoulder and then head off to work.

Cooper checked the clock again. Only a brief 30 minutes before he came to be collected. He turned away from the window and sunk into the couch. He grabbed his blanket (the one thing his mother hadn’t packed and donated) and wrapped himself up in it. Cooper thought that maybe he didn’t have to die. Maybe, just maybe, if he really tried, he could avoid being disposed. He was a good kid, after all. He did his school work and chores, he behaved himself, played with other children, and made people smile. In Cooper’s eyes, he didn’t seem like the type of kid who would be disregarded like day-old toast. 

He fought back the slowly creeping tears. It wasn’t honorable to cry before disposal. It wasn’t worth it to waste your tears. It wasn’t like anyone cared, anyway. Disposal was something that happened every spring. It was just like any holiday. Some people liked it, others didn’t. Some cried, others didn’t. Some died, others didn’t. 

Cooper looked at the clock again with his bravest face. Only, that face was soon crushed. It was 7:30 and someone just knocked on the door. A single, fat tear rolled down his face as his mother came into the living room from the kitchen to get the door. There, in the doorway, stood a man dressed in all black. He looked as though he was going to a funeral, which Cooper found appropriate seeing as how he was going to his death. 

Outside laughter could be heard, but this time because of the individual celebrations going on. People were burning, crushing, and shredding the things they no longer needed. Cooper gulped at the thought of one of those objects being him.

The man in the door cleared his throat. It was time to go. Cooper, still holding his blanket, walked to the door. He went to hug his mother and tell her goodbye, but all she did was shut him out and lock the door. The man took Cooper’s hand into his own and walked him to his car. Reluctantly, they both got in and drove off. 

Nearly an hour later, they arrived at the Disposal Center. Cooper and the man walked in and went to the elevator. The doors shut and within the first few seconds of the elevator moving, the man spoke. 

“I’m going to help you, Cooper.” He said in a rather familiar voice, his rigid posture washing away.

“What?” Cooper was shocked at this man’s humanity.

“I don’t want to see you turned into human paste. You are valued.” 

Cooper didn’t know what to say. He felt a few tears slip loose.

“You and all of the other people who were to be disposed.”

“Wait a min-” Cooper was cut off by someone else boarding the elevator.
The man regained his rigid posture and Cooper wiped away his tears. The woman who just boarded looked down at the two, her nose held held high.
When Cooper and the man finally reached their floor, the man lead them into a room labeled “Disposal”. If this man cared so much, why was he leading Cooper to his death? Expecting drills and shredders, Cooper was pleasantly surprised to see only a door in the middle of the room.
“Cooper, I understand that you probably don’t trust me, but if you want to live you need to go through that door. It will transport you somewhere safe. Somewhere without Disposal Day.”
Choosing to trust the man, Cooper held his blanket tight and walked up to the door.  He reached forward to the door knob and turned it.

Cooper opened the door and walked through, shutting it firmly behind him.

At first, it was just light. Next thing Cooper knew, he was being welcomed by people he thought were disposed of a while ago. Cooper smiled for the first time in months of receiving his letter of disposal.

Everything was going to be ok for once.
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