Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Writing Exercise 33: The Alternate Ending

In our last writing exercise, we were given the time to produce our very own alternate ending to Neil Gaiman's Babycakes in 150 words minimum.

Here's my very own continuation to the story.

View also Neil Gaiman reading Babycakes on Youtube

Neil Gaiman

A few years back all the animals went away.

We woke up one morning, and they just weren't there anymore. They didn't even leave us a note, or say good-bye. We never figured out quite where they'd gone.

We missed them.

Some of us thought that the world had ended, but it hadn't. There just weren't any more animals. No cats or rabbits, no dogs or whales, no fish in the seas, no birds in the skies.

We were all alone.

We didn't know what to do.

We wandered around lost, for a time, and then someone pointed out that just because we didn't have any animals anymore, that was no reason to change our lives. No reason to change our diets or to cease testing products that might cause us harm.

After all, there were still babies.

Babies can't talk. They can hardly move. A baby is not a rational thinking creature.

We made babies.

And we used them.

Some of them we ate. Baby flesh is tender and succulent.

We flayed their skin and decorated ourselves in it. Baby leather is soft and comfortable.

Some of them we tested.

We taped open their eyes, dripped detergents and shampoos in, a drop at a time.

We scarred them and scalded them. We burnt them. We clamped them and planted electrodes in their brains. We grafted, and we froze, and we irradiated.

The babies breathed our smoke, and the babies' veins flowed with our medicines and drugs, until they stopped breathing or until their blood ceased to flow.

It was hard, of course, but it was necessary.

No one could deny that.

With the animals gone, what else could we do?

Some people complained, of course. But then, they always do.

And everything went back to normal.


In time, this cannibalistic tradition, a by- product of a chaotic mind engulfed and trapped in the obsession for the rival of homo-sapiens' domination; flourished without inquiry.

As if given the power to rule over the Supreme Being’s enigmatic creations, the consumption was with cult following.

It has never come to pass, as in a conspiracy; everyone was destined to follow.

Then that fateful day did came. For in a turmoil of emotion, a youth that was tucked safely away and was forced to slumber under the bowels of our forsaken civilization, stood up.

No more did he say.

At the gathering for the fools feast, to the elders, he did point and raised the QUESTION.

In the shadows of murmurs, praises and protest, he pointed the inevitable.

And in the eyes of the gathering, at the swift hack of the executioner’s blade he was slain.

Sparkling and dripping in filth, his blood reflects an uprising against a rubbish tradition.

I was a part of that unruly crowd that night and I too felt ashamed of what i have become,

I QUESTIONED myself for every drop of innocent blood spilled...

Many years has passed since the last gathering, and everyone lived in peace; everyone figured it would end.

Then as in a swift awakening, the grey clouds of yesterday slowly melted away;

For now, our most shrewd learned to make animals out of babies...

Jasmin Uy


telemarketing call center said...

I love the picture. Nice idea.

Message in a Bottle said...

Hi TCC, cheers and thanks a lot!