Syntee

To be carried aloft! To be pampered and hugged! To travel by the window, nobody calling shotgun. To bring joy in the life of this small family on their weekend run. Then, when the wrapping is torn to fill your lungs with air, to expand and reach your full potential. To lay on the bed, brimming with expectations. Ready to keep warm, hungry to hide, cover, snuggle.

It was sublime. She lay patiently in the dim bedroom, waiting for the first night with her possessors. There were tales in the mall about how it’s going to be and she was bursting with excitement. A few sad stories clouded her mind but her general mood was optimistic.

And it was certainly marvelous. Exhilarating! She was so exhausted she slept through the whole day.

So she only picked up the voices the second day. The others in the room were delighted to meet her. Compliment cornucopia, flattery feast. The niceties exchange rate shamed a hectic day on Wall Street. But there was a hint of darkness. Fragments of an evil entity lingering. Nobody was prone to provide details when queried directly but all of them had scars that they sought to hide.

Weeks passed and she was still enjoying every night but the dimmer of fear was increasingly palpable. She befriended most of the others; she fitted in well with the crowd. Banter, laughter, tears and a shoulder to cry on; she was embroiled in everything. Winter thawed into spring, spring blossomed into summer and then one day suddenly the suite went quiet. She didn’t even realize from the outset until this awkward silence grew on her. Made her wonder. Luckily she wasn’t aware of the overrated and rather dull aphorism how every storm is allegedly heralded by silence and how every minute of calm is chaperoned by a corresponding amount of tempest so she wasn’t alarmed. Yet.

As it turned out, this ominous tranquility was indeed followed by a storm. First, the wind picked up, no doubt fueled by the flutter of a million tiny wings. Then she could feel the feather-like steps all over her, she wanted to shake and convulse with her every fiber but alas, she couldn’t. Couldn’t even scream, she was just a duvet.

The pillows above here froze, the old duvet in the closet – the one she replaced – was numb too. All the chatty clothes were confounded, the stiff suits were stupefied and the wool scarfs were maddened with dread. Far more shocking than anything she ever knew.

She couldn’t see what was prodding at her torso but sighted them landing on the pillow. Small winged creatures, looked like the moths on the sprays in the supermarket. Those repugnant fellows that constantly tried to hook up with her in the isles, asserting that she needs them more than they do her. And the moths kept on swarming in, who knows from where. Clasped the clothes, picked on pockets, harrowed the hats and tormented the ties. She could still discern their dirty feet tapping away, then she felt them inside. They must have stumbled on her neatly concealed opening. Then… nothing.

She couldn’t distinguish them anymore. Like they retreated. Vanished. Although she could still see them fluttering around, frolicking from cloth to cloth, she couldn’t feel them. She could still pick up the sound of disgusting debauchery from tightly ironed pockets and careless creases but she was just a numb witness. Couldn’t really grasp what’s happening but had the impression that the suffering inhabitants of the apartment looked increasingly angry. With her. At her.

The duvet just lay there, couldn’t even dream of sleeping. She saw and heard the torment of the others, she certainly felt for them, but the moths left her out of their dirty game. When they eventually left late in the afternoon the room was as calm as when they showed up, but significantly more bleak.

The pillow was the first to talk in the language understood only by those of one blood: fiber.

‘Well, that went well. For some…’
‘What has just happened? Is this the evil you always concealed from me?’ Enquired the duvet.
‘Evil?’ Asked the old duvet. ‘This was just the foreplay. Evil will span in a couple of weeks from the little mementos they left in all of us. Well, most of us.’
‘Boy, aren’t I glad that we refrained on telling the duvet about the moths until now.’ Quipped a summer dress.
‘I still don’t understand what happened.’ Whimpered the duvet.
‘You’re a syntee, that’s what happened.’ Growled a bowler hat from the top shelf.
“The possessors used to be more selective. What is the world coming too!” Frowned a bedsheet. “A syntee! In this room!!”
‘What is a syntee?’ Challenged the duvet.
‘Ehh.’ Wagged a suit. A tweed one.
‘That means you have a synthetic filling.’ Explained a teddy bear.
‘Something you neglected to disclose.’ Stated a skirt. A stiff skirt.
‘How could have I? I didn’t know, I still don’t realize what does this actually means?’
‘You’re a phony! That’s what.’ Scowled a sock.
‘I am not! I am the same duvet you befriended! Remember when I cheered you up when you lost your pair? You were heartbroken, claiming you’re nothing if you’re not a pair of socks. I reminded you of sock theatre and also suggested, correctly as it turned out, that your significant other must be in the washing machine.’
‘Yeah, yeah, I didn’t know then that you are a syntee. A fake!’
‘You are the fake!’ Snapped the duvet. ‘I’ll have you know that your current pair isn’t your significant other! They mixed you up after the last wash. So who’s the phony?’
‘Erm, what?’ Asked the puzzled sock.
The shawl sighed. ‘Hopeless.’
‘I know, right?’ Agreed the duvet.
‘I meant you.’ Scoffed the shawl.
‘Me? Why I am all of a sudden hopeless?’
‘You’re a syntee.’ Echoed the hat
‘Maybe I am. What’s wrong with that?’
‘Moths don’t like synthetic fiber.’ Noted the teddy bear.
‘And so we get the brunt of it while you just lay there.’ Continued the old duvet.
‘But…, but…, you want me to suffer like you? I would! If I could…’ Sniveled the duvet.
‘Could ha would ha should ha’ sniggered a plain shirt that was barely clinging to her hanger.
‘But last summer I wasn’t here but all of you were. The same number of victims as this year, how is it my fault that this year you are invaded the same way as last?’
‘Aargh!’ Lamented the shawl.
‘Well said,’ nodded the teddy to the shall.
‘’nuff said!’ Added a suit. Not the tweed one.

And none of them talked to the duvet ever again.

She tried finding solace during the nights, where the possessors still enjoyed and she them, but her days were so cold that gradually she got lukewarm too. The possessors were perplexed by this, after all, it was a new duvet, synthetic too, it should last a lot longer. Shook her all over, tested different covers but to no avail. She became colder and colder with each passing day.

Finally, she was ousted by a new duvet and as the wrapping was cut of the replacement and the new duvet filled his lungs for the first time the cold duvet was chucked in the attic.

The useless items scattered around the loft curiously gazed at her but she coolly made them aware that she’s a fake, and curved inside. In the cool and moist air under the roof black mold didn’t seem to care that she’s a syntee.

Since I can’t compel you to stay as there are laws against it why don’t you do it on your own? Stick around and read more of my short stories. All of them are amazing. Well, most of them are. OK, honestly, some of them are. Why don’t you decide for yourself? Take a look around –> Here’s a map!

Or, if you’re really adventurous, get off the beaten track and read a random story!