We Stand on Glass Walls

By Trevor Leyenhorst

What if humans were kept as feed for the animals? Kept in a glass pen and used at the whim of the Keepers, Doxa defines where her own power lies among the other captives. (Reading time: 30 minutes).

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trevor Leyenhorst
• Release date: Mar 30, 2018
• ISBN: 9780993618123

Trevor Leyenhorst

Trevor Leyenhorst is a Sign Language Interpreter by day and an author by night or while on the train. His current works explore the assumption of humans ruling a fictitious hierarchy of living and non-living things. He lives in New Westminster with his wife and three children.

Book preview

We Stand on Glass Walls

Copyright 2018 by Trevor Leyenhorst

License Notes

This ebook may be shared, provided it appears without alteration and the next reader is not charged to access it.

Contents

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

doxa | 'dawk-sah | noun

: society’s unquestioned truths

Part I

We crowd together in the steel transport container. The sealed lid shuts out light and there are only sounds, a cough or a curse, and sharp smells of urine and sweat, and the touch of skin on skin as we are jostled about. I feel alone and I feel small despite the constant contact of all our bodies.

Rynn, are you with me? I say to the smells and sounds.

I’m here.

I turn to the sound of her distant voice as the lid is removed and the outside light strikes our eyes. The container tilts to one side and dumps us out. We land on bare dirt in a flurry of dust. One person remains in the departing container, upside down and gripping hands against the two walls of a corner. I think it’s Rynn. The Keeper hits the bottom of the container and Rynn cries out and torpedoes to the hard ground.

I roll to my stomach and get up to my knees and crawl between the others to her body. Her arm twists in a gruesome angle away from her bleeding face.

We need to get up, I say. Rynn, get up.

Daw.... The sound slides out of her mouth with blood.

I rub the smooth skin of her head, at first gently, then with more force when she doesn’t respond. My breath comes heavy and fast. I stare at her as if through misted glass and find the shape of her hand beside me. I caress her unguarded palm from wrist to fingertips.

The sound of metal scraping against metal thunders a hundred feet above as a grated lid slides into place. The incandescence makes it hard to see but the lid seems to secure the length of the terrarium. The lid snaps closed