The Reject File

So, ever since I finished the Mock-Fictions, I've needed a new place to archive my ideas that i'll probably never finish or use (because some of them are ridiculous, others are WAY out of my league, and some are just plain creepy and depressing). Erm... I'm still deciding whether I want to give any of these away. It'd be nice to see some of them put to use :D If you could comment and ask, i'll let you know. For now though: Enjoy my old and rejected work XD


6. -


WHIP! I watched her whip the clothes to remove all the creases. WHIP! She whipped another. WHIP! And another.

“Please stop that! Stop it, at once!” I said, wearily.

“Why?” she replied, taking one sharp glance at me and then returning to her whipping.

“There’s no need to do it! Why can’t you just leave off what they said? There’s no need, I tell you!”

“Everything. Everything they said was true. So, why not? They don’t need me and I am in no need of them or you. So what’s the use?”


She lined the clothes across the circular rope attached to many trees – much like a washing line. “You can’t just cast yourself aside because some-one says something about you!” I said, struggling.

“But it was TRUE. So I don’t understand why you are stopping me!”

“To repent is the wiping away of sin, so GO AND REPENT.”

“What? The great sin that I’VE done? How can it be forgiven, by anyone?”

“He who resides above the Heavens and the Earth, and is the Most Merciful of All – can and will forgive you. If only you were sincere.”

“Who? Who is ‘He’? Some fable that your mother told you? Some fish-monger your father indoctrinated you into believing? Some old-wives’ tale the priests have taught you about? Who ‘He’? Please, there is no ‘He’. There’s just earth, water and nothing.”


She kept imposing the clothes to the line, angrily.

I squirmed nervously, “You say blasphemy in itself! How can you condemn them when they say the truth? But repent, Dear Sister, Repent! Or all is lost and none is achieved!”

“There is NOTHING up there! No matter what you affectionate names you call me, and no matter how you convince me; THERE IS NOTHING. And soon there will be nothing. Every person shall face NOTHING. NOTHING. NOTHING. NOTHING.”

“And what – by your ignorant sayings – is ‘nothing’?”

“… What?”

“What is ‘Nothing’? Describe it. What does it look like? What does it feel like? What does it taste like? How dare you accuse Death of being ‘nothing’?”

“Nothing is… Nothing.”

“Is that supposed to be an explanation or a mere repetition of words?”

“It… It cannot be described.”

“How so? How so? Why can this ‘nothing’ NOT be described?”


“BECAUSE there is something. You know it even if you chose to disbelieve, you know it. You know it.”


She took up the metal pegs and began securing the pieces of cloth. She looked as though she would break the rope if she pushed down any harder… Most of me hoped she would…

“Hold yourself back! PLEASE!” I begged.

“Poor Beggar! I would advise you took your own advice. Why do you worry so much on my part? Why would my actions – imposed on none other than myself – concern a young man such as yourself?” she replied, with all anger in her eyes… yet a glimpse of worry in them.

“You and I are of the same father and of the same mother – you are my sister. Even if not by blood, but at least, by nature. I wish not – by any means – for you to be thrown in the murky pits of Hell. So please cease the act and repent…. Please, repent.”

“How can my sin be forgiven? If you truly be a brother to me, speak truth to me. How? It is the height of blaspheme.”

“How can your sin be more overwhelming than His mercy? He is beyond comparison and His mercy is more than His anger – so repent and be sincere in your repentance and ye shall see it. He shall, if only you would just ask!”

“You speak nothing more than hearsay.”

“Oh! Nothing but deaf ears hear me! Nothing but blind eyes see me! And nothing but a dumb mouth speaks to me!”


She swiped up a shovel and began to dig below the line furiously. The hole began to get deeper and deeper, and bigger and bigger.  My blood ran faster and faster, and colder and colder – like a sharp metal blade slicing through my veins one by one. Oh God! Oh Dear God!

“Why? Why do you punish me and yourself so?” I began to cry.

“Because them and you lie, and give me false hopes of a better life after this,” she replied digging more and more furiously with every passing second.

“What makes you think so? Why are they lies? Why are they false?”

“Are you kidding me? Did you see what that man – that horrible, horrible man – did to me? Did you hear what the priest said he would do to me? Did you see what punishment I had imposed on my very own child? Which ‘He’ can forgive me for that? If there is a life to come – a better one – then there must be one for punishment. That will be it. That will be the one I enter. So, why do you stop me? If punishment were to fall on me, it would have already. That man has ruined my life. That child has ruined my life. That ‘He’ has ruined my life. There is nothing left to be ruined. Everything is spoiled.”


“Must you be so rotten as to blame everything on He who has created you?”

“And He who has brought about my pains…”

“Have your deaf ears NEVER heard of Patience? Of Perseverance? Life is a test for all, not just for you, you must endure.”

“With a naïve mind as yours, you will never understand what I have undertaken.”

“Nay! I have endured more.”

“What? Have you been raped and told that you would burn in hell? Have you had a child you wish you could keep, but feared that the child would be abused with the name ‘illegitimate’? Have you been blamed with the sin of another? NO. NO. NO. You have endured nothing.”

“Have patience and ye shall see that the world has more good for thee, than evil.”


“Hold yourself back!”

“No. It is too late…”


She grabbed the clothes that hung from the line. I squirmed in the chains she had tied me with. Please stop. She began to wrap the clothes. Tighter. Tighter. Faster. Faster. Around her thin neck. And let herself fall. Fall. Fall into the ditch she had made. Not a shriek. Not a whimper. Not a whisper. Not a movement…


Dear Sister,

If only I could save you,

If only I could tell you that it would be alright,

But the date of death was due,

And it took your breath, your eyesight,


For some crooked, unruly reason,

You could not endure,

And against God you’ve done treason,

And have become far from pure.


If only I could save you,

If only I could tell you that it would be alright,

But I tried, again and again,

But you were deaf, dumb and blind.


May none do so again,



Your Brother,

A Man Unknown.

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