Hazardous Substances

The shock waves rocked several city blocks and could be heard from miles around, but fortunately there were no injuries—to people, that is. The negative emotions containment facility had been evacuated expediently at the first sign of trouble, all safety precautions enacted without delay. And while those precautions ultimately could not prevent the blast and its ensuing conflagration, they did contain it and ensure the wellbeing of the community. I was asleep at the time, but my roommate woke me up after hearing the frightening boom resound throughout the city. Together, we watched the news coverage on the television, which he had immediately turned on to find out the source of this thunderous sound. On the glowing screen before us, we saw the raging flames of the monstrous firestorm engulfing what was left of the facility and the surrounding wooded hills, the blaze reaching up high into the starry sky. Behind the reporters, containment teams were working furiously to bring it under control with hoses blasting chemically treated water. By morning, it was over, leaving the charred skeleton of the facility, burnt up forests full of ash and clouds of dark smoke hanging over them, blown slowly east by the wind to the plains upon which they would later rain their caustic waters.

The storage facility was situated on the outskirts of the city, placed in such a remote location in case anything like this ever happened. It was designed as a holding station for hazardous human substances before they could be properly disposed of at the treatment facility, which despite operating at maximum capacity, was always overrun dealing with these environmentally and socially destructive materials. It was meant as a temporary measure to safely house these things until another treatment facility could be constructed. Continue reading

Dealing with (and in) Bottled Up Emotions

Tuoz is really good at bottling up his negative emotions, especially frustration and anger. This is only to be expected since he’s been doing it for a long time now. When we were kids, he started holding in his feelings more and more during third and fourth grade. He wasn’t great at it back then, and he actually hasn’t improved much since; sometimes feelings and thoughts would slip out of his grasp or he couldn’t keep his hold on them, and there’d be an outburst in class or an explosion on the playground.

But once he discovered his knack for making containers, he didn’t have to exert as much restraint upon his emotions. All he needed to do from then on was get his feelings and thoughts under control or reined in (which he usually was able to do discreetly), then expediently cram them into one of the homemade containers (typically a bottle, occasionally a box or tube) that he’d carry with him; they were designed and built to withstand the pressures and temperatures of their future contents so long as he kept a lid on them, tightly. Continue reading