Swiftstar's Guide to Life

Happy October! 🎃

In celebration of October, I will be posting a short story every week. 

You walk into the kitchen with the intentions of making some pasta. You set the water to boil. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a change. After a moment, your eyes focus on the tresh can in the corner, for you realize the lid has opened seemingly on its own...

Curious, you take a step towards the ajar tresh can, staring at the abyss that sends a tremor down your spine. You peek down into the myriad of rotting bananers, and begin to hear a voice from the darkness. At first quietly, then rising to an anxious plead:
"Bananers...bananers...BANANERS!!!"
You cover your ears from the screech, but the cries seem to be coming from your hands. You peer into the tresh can, only to realize that you are being sucked into the void that is the tresh bag. You are falling, falling, falling, falling. You finally see the end of the pit, a large tresh dump. You've been sent down the tresh chute. You brace for the impact, but your efforts are useless against the plethora of food screps, plestic, and other rubbish. You hear a loud thud as your body smacks the pile, the rotting bananers inside flying from underneath you. For a few moments, you lay there, pained, waiting for death's arms to embrace you. A dark thought emerges: what if this is death?
All you can do is stay in place, lost in your derranged mind. A noise from behind you catches your attention. It sounds like the clanking of metal pots. It is the sound of the lids of a tresh can army opening, closing, opening, closing. You turn around and back away slowly. There is no escape.
A rotting bananer appears behind you. One by one, bananers surround you, encasing in their stench sickening sweetness. You have entered a tireless war that can never be won. Suddenly, the voices in your head decided to return..."bananers, bananers, bananers!" You scream a blood-curdling yelp. You smash through the wall of bananers and stumble about the sea of tresh. The bananer army is chasing you, and there is only one way to run...onward. In the distance, you can make out the formation of a field.

You sprint towards it, the bananers nearing you, their slimy yellow peels searing the scene in your brain. Only a little farther. The meadow is your only hope. You run through the first half of the field, only to realize that the "grass" is unripened bananers beneath your feet. You run farther, faster, until you feel your legs cannot go on much longer. You seem to have lost them. You yell out a victory cry and keep sprinting. You trip on a banana peel and fall into the pit of green bananers. You only see the silhouette of a bananer looming above as your consciousness begins to fade. You close your eyes and give in to the darkness. You wake up in your own bed, comfortable and conformed for your preference. You yawn, since the lack of sleep is apparent in the bruising under your eyes. You open you eyes lazily, and stretch your arms and legs. "Thank goodness." You remember the nightmare...You recall that you have a long night at work, so you decide to cook your dinner now. You walk into the kitchen with the intentions of making some pasta. You set the water to boil. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a change. After a moment, your eyes focus on the tresh can in the corner, for you realize the lid has seemingly opened on its own..."Bananers...""Bananers""BANANERS"