What is your name to you?
Is it something that makes you special? That's not true is it? Millions of other people share your name, you are not special in that regard. So, I ask, what is your name to you?
Mine is a chain, connected to an endless life of imprisonment. I have nothing to look forward to. I have nothing to look back on. I have nothing. There is only one way out of this torment. To escape.
May I ask you one more question? What does escape mean to you?
In your own perfect world, escape means a gateway to freedom. Untouched by the slimy paws of imprisonment and sorrow. A beautiful field where all your worries and fears melt into oblivion, where you are free to make your own choices and live the way you choose.
In our dreadful existence, escape means one thing and one thing alone. To die. Death is the only release from this prison that they call The Maw. All of us, all the children crammed into cages and crates, with no food to speak of, no mother or father to caress you and tell you it's okay, or to read you wonderful tales of grandeur. To us in this prison, that is the definition of escape.
However, there is one hope. One different meaning, one sliver of a chance that all of us desire.
The chute. Those thrown down that chute are never seen again. No grumbles to suggest they were boiled and eaten by the grotesque inhabitants of The Maw. Or turned into dolls by the Janitor with the peeled brow, down that chute was freedom. Was a sliver of a chance of living semi-happily among the tossed away trash and grime. Was a chance to die of natural causes, instead of at the grimy hands of the Chef.
That is what I live for. A chance to make it down that chute and make my escape, to live with the other inhabitants that have made it down there. Few that there are. There was a chance, once that iron door opened, myself and maybe even others, would go down that luggage chute, and make it to freedom. Or as much freedom that could be experienced surviving on trash.
All I needed was a shot.
I am Six, and this is my tale.