Here is a little scholarship story that I wrote. I'm quite proud of it. It would be great if I could get some feedback on it. Leave your ideas in the comments!
Rules:
Catherine
My long, rusty arm reaches up to lift the last pallet of boxes onto the truck. As I look at the now full truck, I think back to my younger days. Back to the days when I could easily fill many truck loads of heavy boxes. Back when I was a young, shiny new telehandler. Back to better times without chipped yellow paint and rusted hinges. This was a time when I felt like I was truly wanted, and not like I was on death row waiting to be replaced.
I suppose that’s exactly why I’ve been sent down this painful trip on memory lane. The past week it seems all I’ve been able to think about is the past, thinking back to better days and brighter skies. Much to my dismay, today was not bright and sunny, and I worked for hours under grey skies, threatening a downpour at any minute.
“Alright, bring her in,” the boss shouts up to my driver, Avery.
“Yeah, yeah,” Avery mutters, putting me into gear. My engine hums to life, and I begin wheeling back towards the garage where they keep all the machines. I roll by the grey, dusty outer walls of the factory I work for and begin my sorrowful trek to the garage. I used to always envy the machines that had inside jobs. They never had to put up with weather, and they were kept in safer garages because they were more fragile. I quickly overcame this jealousy, however, because they were replaced more often.
I, like many of the other outdoor machines, have been with Han’s Shipping since the beginning. However, the number of machines that remember the early days, when there was only one plant, has decreased to three.
There’s me, of course, a CAT model telehandler. The other machines call us the movers, for obvious reasons. The other two machines are both trucks. Although they can hardly be compared to such equipment as a telehandler or crane, they served their hours nonetheless.
Before I know it, I’m at the garage. The tall white gate is still lifted up, beckoning me in for the last time. I recall my first stay in this garage. With my yellow paint newly cleaned, I was excited to finally have a job and make a contribution to the world. I was one of the few brand new machines there, which probably accounts for my longer stay. Although I was small compared to some of the cranes, I was still one of the larger machines there. This is an aspect of myself of which I am proud. While I can lift things up over fifty feet in the air, I’m still small enough to fit into an average sized garage without needing a separate shed.
Avery backs me into my stall and mutters, “Good girl, Catherine.” I cringe, because I know it is our last time. That is just the beginning of the end of my final work day. Many of the other telehandlers think it’s rather odd that a human named me. I have never known any different. My first day was merely a month after the death of Avery’s wife, Catherine. It took him a while, but once he’d warmed up to me, he decided to call me Catherine. We were always together, and he often talked to himself about her as he worked.
None of the other workers know about my name, and that’s just fine with me. Avery wipes down my plating. He starts at the black tip of the arm and descends towards the base, wiping off the paint, and in the spots where the paint has chipped off, the silver plating. He continues to clean me until he is certain I am free of dust.
This is usually where our evening ritual ends. He says goodnight and leaves, shutting the garage. Tonight, he pauses.
“Well, it’s been a good run,” he begins. “I’ll always remember you fondly. I know I’m probably a freak for getting so attached to a stupid telehandler--” I cringe when he says stupid, “but, frankly, I’m glad I have. You’ve gotten me through the death of my wife and the end of my career. I’ve enjoyed every minute sitting behind the wheel with you. I want you to know that this is the last time that we’ll be doing this. Your time with Han’s Shipping is up, Catherine. Between you and me, I’ve heard you’ve been purchased. I don’t know who the buyer is, but I wish you the best of luck in the future without me. Anyway, you’ve been the best machine I could ask for. You never break down. Before I go, I’m going to tell you that this is also my last day. I’m getting ready for retirement.” A solitary tear drips down his wrinkled, leathery cheek. “I hope you enjoy your retirement, wherever that may be. I’m going down to North Carolina to live closer to my son. I guess that’s all I have to tell you. Thank you, Catherine.”
He turns to leave and grabs a tissue with his greasy hands, blowing his nose. The garage door comes to life when Avery hits the button, shutting it for the last time. As the door shuts, I try to peak out at the dimming light of day towards the factory, and I see Avery’s muddy brown work boots, slowly strolling away.
Soon after Avery leaves, I’m not sure how much time has actually passed, the door opens again. This is unusual. Three men come in and head directly for my stall. I’m removed from my stall and begin to leave the garage. I recall what Avery said to me earlier about being purchased. I’m not worried about what will happen to me. I’m loaded onto a truck, it’s too dark outside to read what the writing on the side says.
Once again I’m alone. I’m left in the lonely darkness of the truck. I have plenty of time to think about what life will be like at my new job. I suppose I’ll find out tomorrow. It’s been a long day and it’s time to rest.
I’m jolted awake by movement from underneath me. I’m on some sort of conveyor belt. I feel exposed. Empty. I take in my surroundings, or what at least what I can, it’s quite dark. I do notice, however, that it is rather warm. I don’t have wheels. In fact, I am missing quite a few of my parts. In reality, I’m a skeleton. My framework is literally all that is left of me. What is happening to me? My mind is flooded with so many questions.
But before I have a chance to answer them, there is a loud sound, similar to the garage door opening from last night, but this one is much faster. With the loud sound there is a bright light. I begin to fall, the light getting brighter and the heat getting closer.
And then there is nothing.
Epilogue
Avery sits on his soft lavender couch, Catherine’s favorite color, watching his small television. He catches himself looking onto the mantel above the fire place at his two tokens, made from the melted down metal of his beloved machine. Like he has many times before, when he looks at the two silver cats, he remembers his own two cats.
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