The Din of Lies


“Some friend you turned out to be,” she murmured as the cameras rolled. So many; did there have to be so many cameras? The din of the film spooling through them all was overwhelming. She couldn’t think; maybe that was the idea.

Framed in each shot. Her. Moving. Up close you can see the outline of the world around her. 4:3. Each flicker of light a new prison. Each camera flickering offbeat, their shuddering wavelengths merging into one incessant throb.

She moves for them. Arching and prowling the edges of their barriers. Film cascades through the tightly-wound boxes, distorting reality. Each camera cooing a lie. Lies change the world. Liars manipulate reality. The bug eyes of the cameras bend her world into theirs. Distort her truth into their lies. She is captured,  again and again,  upside-down in their bellies

The men behind the cameras blur and melt, sunbursts obliterating their faces. Between them and her, a barrier of unreality. In their tidy world they discuss her, how she sparkles and shimmers when the cameras are on. How she is untouchable (and this she is; to them). She cannot hear them, just the din of lies.

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