Pota and Cara
Pota stared at the bright light on the ceiling. His gaze stayed on it for some time. Black spots formed in his eyes before they grew bigger and completely blinding him. The darkness was then replaced by images from his past. Back when he was living happily with his family.
It was an ordinary day. Pota and his two brothers were playing catch while Mom and Dad stayed at home. The sky was painted light blue and white, puffy clouds were gliding across it. Matter of fact, it was better than usual. Maybe Pota was too happy. Maybe Pota was just oblivious. He himself still couldn't figure out which one was the better explanation. Because when the white clouds turned black, he should have known that it was not just going to rain.
The days went by but the void inside Pota's heart remained. All that he remembered from that day was hearing a loud, mechanical growl before he was separated from his brothers. He was now placed in what seemed to be a container or some sort before he was moved to an even bigger container. Inside, there were even more containers. Pota didn't have the mood to count but even by a quick scan of the place, he could easily guess that there were at least 50 containers.
He turned away from the sight before him. It's just a bad dream. Pota convinced himself. Even way before the self-convincing worked, the predicament grew worse. All the light instantly exited the container, following the nightmarish sound of a loud thud. Pitch black dominated the ambience. Adding to that, the container that he was placed in was different from the smaller one he was in. It began moving. The motion was bumpy but after awhile, Pota was not bothered by it at all. As if the worries about his family numbed all his senses.
After what appeared to be an eternity, the whole thing came to a halt. A sliver of ray slipped through a horizontal crack on one side of the container, eradicating the darkness. A silhouette of a man stood before him. Pota was unsure of what was going on, though a glimmer of hope sprouted in him. That minuscule optimism was soon crushed as the same gloved hands that put him in this hellhole came closer and raised the container again.
Pota and the container were moved to a new place- a better one. At least the air wasn't damp and the place is well illuminated. In fact, the weather was way colder. Things were looking up but Pota didn't want to hope much. After all, he still had not the slightest clue of his family whereabouts, let alone the chance of finding them. He shut his eyes from the light, the first time he preferred darkness to light. And that was when he heard it. The sweetest voice after his beloved Mother.
"Cara. I need to save her," Pota whispered to himself.
Thank you for reading!