I don’t know if any my readers remember, but waaaaaay back in January I posted a SongWrite which you can find here. I wrote a 300 word story based on what a song made me think of. Today I decided to try it again!
Last time I wrote to “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” by Enya. Today I’m writing to the Tron: Legacy soundtrack. A few weeks ago I posted a list of my favorite soundtracks. There, Like Star Filled Skies commented and listed some of her favorite soundtracks, one of which was the Tron soundtrack. I looked it up and loved it. So, today I decided to use it as my “song” for my songwrite. It is very sci-fi sounding, so that’s where my story went. If you would like to hear it, you can find the soundtrack here.
I set my limit at 300 words, whether or not I felt the story was done. I came in at 307, so not too bad!
“No biological implants, no previous trauma.” Staring through the oval window of the surgical doors into the sterile white room, I can see the men in white coats circle the girl on the bed. “She’s a perfect candidate.” The men continue analyzing their subject in preparation for her procedure. I wonder if she’s thinking about escape. Memory deletion ready to begin. The words they start the procedure with flash through my mind. The girl’s arms are secured with straps that crisscross over her legs and chest, pinning her against the board. Lines drape over her body, running to who knows how many machines.
“Please,” she whispers. “I won’t run anymore, I swear.”
It’s too late though. They slide the needle into her arm. She shuts her eyes, and I see a tear drip down her cheek. The last one she’ll ever cry. Shivering, I know that could be me in that room. I can’t let that happen. Suddenly, I feel my arm grabbed, and I’m spun half way around. I meet the eyes of a guard. I shake my arm loose from his grasp. Glaring at him, I stand up a little taller and look him straight in the eye.
“Mission?” he demands holding out his hand.
Giving my command chip to him, I automatically supply my identification. “Number 6786. Name: Calixta Britton.”
The guard keeps his eyes – one real, one robotic – on me as he pulls back the top of his glove and slides the chip into the slot. I cross my arms over my chest, confident, knowing my mission is genuine. I may be against the Order, but I still obey their commands … for now. I can see the data flash in his robotic right eye as he verifies it. “Your mission has been changed, 6786. Report to the General at once.”
Thanks for reading!