The Pile

Warning: This story contains themes of neglect and child death.

Tossed away. Forgotten. Dumped in an endless pile of plastic and used napkins. A nasty smell that can never be escaped, but at least the thrown-out toy bunny with one ear can still see the light. The only saving grace in this situation. However, it doesn’t last, because right as it is on top, a ball of junk gets poured on it, drowning it in darkness.

The bunny now is suffocating, except it can’t actually suffocate, for that would be too generous. The trash sits there and suffers. The only thing its nonexistent brain can think about is anger: the neglect, the loneliness. But when you're lonely, there will always be someone to talk to.

“Anybody?”

The angry bunny could hear the faint voice, and even though it couldn’t see or move, it responded.

“What?”

“I can’t see.”

“Neither can I.”

The sound of someone crying started.

“Why did he throw me away?”

Then somebody else started talking.

“I can’t see the light.”

The faint voice started again.

“Where are you?”

The voice was coming from below the bunny.

“I think I’m above you.”

Just then, another pile of trash poured down.

Then the crying voice started again.

“I can’t feel my legs anymore.”

It came from the bunny's right.

The voice above him resumed speaking.

“There has to be some way out of here.”

Another pile of trash was dumped onto the pile. The crying voice started talking again, except this time the voice was less sad and more hopeless.

“We are never going to leave this never-ending pile of trash.”

The voice on top started talking again.

“Shut it. We will leave.”

The one on the bottom responded.

“You will never be able to leave because this pile never ends.”

After that, it was silent. None of them was keeping track of the time, but they were all sure that a couple of days had passed. More trash was being thrown onto the pile. One day, the bunny started to talk again.

“Hey, what are your names?”

The one on his right responded first.

“Ivan.”

Followed by the one on top saying, “McDonald's Cup.”

“I meant your name, not your label.”

“Oh, then I don’t know.”

“My name is Flopsy, and I am a toy rabbit.”

“Isn’t that just a label, too?”

There was a pause for a few seconds before someone spoke again.

“Oh, I am a used tissue.”

The whole time, the one on the bottom stayed silent.

“Hey,” Ivan said, “You haven’t told us your name yet.”

“It’s been so long that I forgot.”

“Are you at the bottom?”

“No, not even close.”

Suddenly, a new voice jumped out from below. It was even fainter, too.

“This pile has no bottom.”

“But it does have a top,” piped Ivan.

“How did you get thrown away?” asked the McDonald's Cup.

The bunny responded.

“I don’t remember exactly. I just remember this sound: Vrrrrrrrrrooom.”

“So a car?”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, why are we the only pieces of trash talking?”

“I don’t know,” the rabbit admitted.

“Maybe we're special,” the faint voice said.

After that, the rabbit started thinking about leaving the pile. It was a long way up, though, he thought. The only problem was that he was trash. He couldn’t move. Still, he had hope. Every day, he talked about trying to leave the pile. Soon, the faint voices stopped, almost like something took them away. Theories went around between them, like what if they were taken by some other force. Soon, though, the rabbit saw a darkness below him. It was a slow darkness, but soon it would reach the bunny. Every day, the darkness got closer and closer. As it got closer, the faint voices got louder.

“Please.”

“Why?”

“Help.”

Then the crying started. The pile was now letting out a loud crying sound. Flopsy didn’t know what it was, but he knew he wanted none of it. The next day, the darkness was only a few feet away from Flopsy. Almost like his soul awakened, all of a sudden, he could move. He started to make his way up but realized that Ivan was still down there. He went back down and made his way right.

“Ivan!”

No response.

“Ivan!”

The darkness was now right under him. He continued making his way through the pile. Now the darkness was on his elbows. The darkness stopped him. Something surged through his body, almost like a memory. It was an image of a little boy holding him, playing in the sun out in the street. A faint yelling was in the background. The boy continued playing in the street. Then a faint noise started.

It was a vrrrrrrrrrooooooooommmmmmmm sound. It was far away, but it was getting louder. The boy was dancing while holding the bunny’s hand. The sound got louder and louder until it was only a few feet away. Before he knew it, the car hit him. The vision ended. Flopsy was now almost drowning in the darkness. He yelled for Ivan, but he got no response. Ivan was gone.

The bunny needed to start his climb again. He continued ascending the pile, yelling for the McDonald's Cup. When he got his response, he immediately made his way to him. When he made it to the cup, he was far ahead of the darkness. He grabbed the cup and continued climbing the pile. He had hope. He would rise above his friends, leaving them behind, hopeful he might see them again someday.

He thought about the small, yet impactful conversations he shared with his companions and used them as motivation to keep going. He remembered the feelings he had when he first awoke in the pile. It was like stepping out of a field of golden wheat and into a never-ending storm of turmoil, a storm that was impossible to leave. He had felt trapped and isolated by his own mind; now he was free; he had escaped the storm.

The darkness touched the bottom of his feet again, but this time it had nothing to show him. It acted as more of a gentle push rather than a threat. Flopsy looked up and saw a small light; it was dim and seemed to be thousands of feet above him, but it was there. All he had to do was keep climbing.