Collector

 

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Introduction

"The media's the most powerful entity on earth. They have the power to make the innocent guilty and to make the guilty innocent, and that's power. Because they control the minds of the masses." ~Malcolm X

 

 

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Matthew Brennan

You have the makings of a tremendous story here! Don't stop now!

What happens next?

Michael Scivoli

I second. You should definitely expand on this. Well done.

Josiah Moses Fulgosino

You look like a big time author to me, having your own website and whatnot. Hope I got updates if ever you decide to add more of your work on Tablo. Keep it up!

Josiah Moses Fulgosino

I would gladly read this! Well, I saw that this is your first work? Are you planning on posting new ones? Please!? Yeah!

Collector

My mother swore at the driver in front of us, banging her hand against the steering wheel and flipping him the bird. It irritated me, not because of the violence of the act, but because she strictly scolded me a moment before not to do that. I swore like a sailor when I lost at video games. A flaw I did little to change. Regardless, it was aggravating she didn't notice the hypocrisy. I rolled my eyes and flipped on the radio, tuning the dial to my favorite morning radio show Gary Mason in the Morning. It was a show my mother especially hated for its vile subject matter and raunchy language, but I loved it and she gave up fighting me over it. Anytime I reached for the dial, I could see her biting her lower lip, and this time was no exception. When I reached the station, I was surprised to find nothing but static. 

"That can't be right," I muttered. The radio said exactly 92.8. "Is the radio broken?" I asked my mom. 

"No, I was listening to it last night on my drive home," she said, nibbling on her index finger nail, stressed by all the traffic, honking their horns and looking at their cell phones. She was going to drop me off at school and was afraid she would be late for work. A flaw she did little to change. 

I rapidly tuned the dial left and right, but it was all static. Not one station was working. I was moments away from slamming my hand against the off switch, but was halted by a single word. 

"Asaph," said the voice over the radio. It was harsh and abrasive with a gargling sound at the back of the throat. "Asaph," it repeated. I counted the seconds in-between iterations and counted seven.

"What are you listening to?" my mother asked, but then she slammed on the breaks, thrusting me against the dashboard, my seatbelt not catching me in time.

The once bustling highway was still, silent, frozen in time. People around us got out of their cars, staring up the sky, repeating in unison the same word, "Asaph" like mindless drones. They all walked together in one collective unit, holding hands. My heart beat inside my chest. Looking out my window, I stared in awe at the spectacle, afraid of what it might mean. I turned to my mother, but she was gone, not even taking the trouble to close the door behind her. I looked everywhere for her, but she was lost in the crowd.

I didn't know what scared me more, the dark voice repeating the same word over and over, my mother abandoning me to join the crowd, or the fact that I was the only one who wasn't.

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