The words over at Three Word Wednesday are lucid, righteous and salvage.
Mind Your Elders
There were moments when she was at her most lucid; details spilled from her painted lips like a powerful, frothy waterfall. She’d sit in a decrepit wingback chair near the windows and soak up the sun like a houseplant.
The rays made her talkative. Those were the days when someone should have been listening, recording maybe, since she was one of the righteous. A chosen soldier whose only crime was to grow old and frail.
The staff, in their white jumpsuits and crinkled paper hats, would spread a courteous smile when passing the talking elderly, prattling on about lives lived, things seen, deeds done. They may pat a hand, or touch their cold fingers on a shoulder, but listening was out of the question. Time moves forward and these wards of the state were the past.
So she continued to bemuse no one from the seat divots in her comfy chair, pausing every so often to tap a still-manicured nail against her front teeth, cluck her tongue and utter a soft, “Uh, uh uh,” when no one stopped to soak up the lessons she broadcast daily as her mind cleared from the I.V. drip they used to tether her to the steel-and-plastic hospital bed.
She had never found the time to have children and watched from her chair as her kin withered and disappeared. She knew not what became of the others, the elders, the keepers of knowledge, nor could she assess whether they had been able to disseminate their common message to the masses that seemed to preoccupied to care.
It had been years since they’d let her near a terminal, let alone a comm device.
So she broadcast in a small voice from that stained brown chair, a musty relic of a time past, and tried to salvage this world from its unavoidable collapse.