Some disturbing dark drabbles today. Enjoy.
Memorial
Black scribbles on a wall; at a glance, nonsense squiggles. Until you look closer. Then you discern faded, childish handwriting, name upon name etched on the stone. Names like Anna, Freddy, Maria, Robert, Chris, Edward. Some have hearts drawn next to them, some smiley faces, some with no decoration. The wall is covered with them, overlapping each other.
As you come even closer, you see stains at the bottom of the wall, spreading out to the concrete. A washed-out rusty red, no amount of scrubbing could erase.
Finally, you read the plaque.
The extermination site for the last immigrant children.
Ghosts of the Machine
Snap, snap, whirrr. Snap, snap, whirrr.
The mechanical noise kept a steady rhythm as the automated robots and assembly lines churned, keeping the factory in working order. All the parts manufactured, combined, and boxed in perfect efficiency.
Then moved to the loading docks.
Never mind they were never shipped.
Never mind the trucks didn’t come anymore.
There was no one left to come. The wars killed most of the humans, the drivers, the managers that made production decisions. Disease killed the rest.
All that was left were scattered factories and the machines. Programmed to continue until their power supplies failed…
Bondage
Wreckage floated on the sea. Wood, a part of a doll, some body parts. They tried to escape, but didn’t make it. A family of four and their boat gone, targeted and destroyed.
They dared freedom and lost.
Their names, existence will be erased. From the records and then from their family’s memories. If those family members are even left alive. They may disappear into the camps to a terrible fate.
They were the first in ten years to try. Now that tiny hope is dead, broadcast on the live streaming networks.
To keep the rest of us in line.
Be Afraid of the Dark 
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