Yerek

My chest trembles from the heartbeats hammering in my ears. I clutch my chest, feel a knot tightening in my throat, and have the sensation that my chest is about to burst. I step back; my back hits the cold glass wall as a huge human hand looms over my bottle. I close my eyes, hug my knees to my belly, and curl up. Nothing happens. I hear the laughter of the spicy ones. I lift my head and reopen my eyes: the human has a spicy spice bottle in his hand. The young red-haired one beats his arms frantically against the glass of his own bottle while his companions laugh. I remember him, when he used to mock me. My heart tightens when he is slid into the mortar. The young spice is covered by the red dust of his deceased companions. "I'm sorry..." I murmur to myself, with tears in my eyes. Before the spicy one can get up, the human lifts the marble pestle and lets it fall on his legs. He lifts and beats and rubs the pestle on the mortar. A hard, grainy noise drowns out the desperate screams of the young spice as his legs turn to dust.

I look away. I breathe quickly, swallow my saliva, and look up at the sky. Other humans are carrying away freshly washed dishes, while others walk around with pots emitting smoke, and I see one approaching the workbench in front of my bottle.

I keep my head down and hug my trembling knees to my chest. My arms are drying out, they are rough and you can see some wrinkles forming. I'm thirsty and sweating from my neck; the heat of my breath has fogged up the glass walls of the bottle. I lift my head towards the neck of the bottle. The human's hand looms over the bottle but instead of picking me up, he throws another ingredient into the glass lips. It rolls on itself, hits the wall, and with a tinkle, it crashes at the bottom of the bottle. I take a slight breath and feel the fresh air enter my lungs, revitalizing me, the freshness extends to my limbs and pulses in my head. The ingredient has clear, shiny skin, you can see through it. A hard skin but covered by a thin layer of water. I swallow my saliva, eager to lick this ingredient: it is a very fresh ice just out of the fridge.

The bottle turns and the human hits the bottom; blow after blow, I am thrown towards the neck of the bottle. I hold my arms against the glass walls and the spicy spices laugh at me. One more blow and I slide out of the bottle, fall into the void, and end up inside a white and plasticky cylinder. I hit my head on the bottom. Green liquid drips from my forehead; there are other vegetables next to me and in front of us are blades so shiny they reflect our faces, thin and metallic. The exit above us is closed by another plastic cylinder. A shrill noise, of current. The appliance vibrates and the blades start to spin. A sharp and squealing vortex screams at us. Our legs tremble with the vibration, I can't stand. Another vegetable loses its balance and slides back against the blades: a dull noise and we are covered by the greenish juice of the vegetable. There is no trace of him, as if he has disappeared and been replaced by his juice, in an instant. A knot in my throat, I crawl back to the plastic wall. The vibrations numb my limbs. The other vegetables huddle next to me against the wall. Dazed and confused, I look up at the sky: the cylinder is lowering, the ceiling is coming down, ready to crush us.